


By Moonlight

by Fargone5



Series: Among Wolves and Spiders [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming
Genre: Action, Adventure, Aunt May is the coolest I said what I said, BAMF Michelle Jones, Friends to Lovers, I wrote initially wrote this story in August, Ned Leeds is the ultimate wingman, Peter doesn’t know how to relationship, SET AFTER HOMECOMING, There's a werewolf, and I've been shipping Spideychelle for THAT long, and some singing?, anyway i'm bad at tagging, lots of superhero violence, of 2017, so it's pretty old, there's some cursing, tony stark is iron dad, who's a good boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 66,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fargone5/pseuds/Fargone5
Summary: Peter Parker's living the life. He's the superhero of his home town, the brainiac of his school, and an (unofficial) Avenger. The year following the Vulture's defeat, petty crime is all he deals with. But what happens when he starts catching feelings for an unsuspecting classmate? Or when a shadowed creature starts ransacking the stores of New York while also stopping criminals in their tracks? Will Spider-Man be challenged by a tiptoeing superhero who does some good while breaking the law, or will he find that there's something more sinister afoot?I do not own any Marvel characters mentioned in this story. None at all.





	1. New York, New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first-ever fanfic. Ah, good times. It may be old, but it's still got some kick. Let me know what you think!

Peter Parker's life wasn't normal. Not that he was complaining anyway. Apart from the school, the chores, and the occasional errand, his life was far more adventurous than anyone would think.

But his day started just like anyone else's, with the slamming of an alarm clock.

Peter woke up on a regular Thursday morning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. After a good stretch, he would drag himself out of bed and into the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and combing his wild brown hair, he threw on a blue sweater over a gray t-shirt and pulled on a pair of jeans. Stifling a yawn, he stuffed his books in yet-another new backpack and left his bedroom. Aunt May handed him a piece of buttered toast as he walked out the door, and wished him well at school. He nodded and went on his way.

Every day, Peter missed the bus. He may have caught it once, but the exact date wasn't coming to him. As he munched on his toast, he strode down the street, not really feeling an anxiety over being late to school. He could be late every day and still ace any test. Except he didn't want detention for being late, and have to sit through that God-awful Captain America video for the 100th time. He fought the guy! Should he really have to listen to his safety regulations?

He ran up the stairs leading to the sidewalk that took him to the front door to his school, Midtown School of Science and Technology. The most annoying kid in the world, Flash Thompson, was standing near the door, surrounded by a number of his friends. As much as Peter tried to remain unseen, he was spotted by the bully.

"Hey, Puny Parker!" Flash called, and Peter stopped walking. A new nickname this time, Peter couldn’t help but notice. He didn't know why he stopped at the sound of it, though. He should've just kept going, pretended like he hadn't heard. But it was too late, and Flash strode toward him, a cocky grin on his face.

"You miss the bus again, nerd?" Flash asked in a mocking tone, making his friends snicker. Peter turned slightly, his expression remaining placid in the face of Flash's arrogance.

"I like walking," Peter said simply, and Flash laughed at his weak response. When the bully turned his back to make another quip to his friends, Peter ducked away as fast as he could, not waiting to hear what he would say. He made for his first class, hoping the teacher wouldn’t be too irritated at his tardiness.

Peter went inside the classroom and saw only two people there. One was his best friend Ned, who sat in the back of the room, and the other was Peter's sorta-friend Michelle. She was closed off in the furthest corner of the classroom, her expression stern as she focused on her book.

"Hey, Peter!" Ned called, patting the seat next to him, "did you hear what happened last night?"

He shook his head as he sat down next to him and began take out his biology books.

"Oh, I thought you would, being Spider-Man and all," he whispered the last part so Michelle wouldn't hear, "but there was a robbery at a deli store last night."

Peter perked up, giving his friend an intent look. He had turned in early last night because the streets were rather quite during his patrol. Had that been a mistake?

"How much was stolen? Any witnesses?" Peter asked, wanting to know as much information as possible.

"Surprisingly, the cash register was still intact, no money stolen at all, and there were no witnesses," Ned replied, and Peter raised an eyebrow.

"So what they take?"

"All the meat in the store," Ned deadpanned, and the young hero's eyes widened in shock. “Like, the entire pantry and refrigerator was completely empty.”

"What? Why?" Peter asked, very surprised.

"There were tufts of fur found at the scene, and authorities are presuming it was some animal raid or something," Ned explained, whipping out his phone to look up more on the event, "Yeah, and the store's one camera didn't pick up anything. The door was smashed open and all the alarms were tripped. By the time police got there, they had escaped."

"How was an animal capable of crushing a door?" Peter asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"Because it wasn't, dorks," Michelle suddenly said, and both Peter and Ned jumped slightly when they noticed Michelle standing right behind them.

"It was obviously some thief who had dog fur on his jacket or something," she explained, rolling her eyes, "Police in this town are so dumb, I swear."

"But what thief steals meat?" Ned asked her, smirking because he thought he found a way to stump her theory.

"Welcome to Earth, where you can’t always explain why people do things," she said in a flat voice before returning to her seat in the corner, "Besides, anyone with a sledgehammer can break down a door."

By now, more students began to filter into the classroom, filling the seats. Ned had to hide his phone before the teacher saw, and once everyone was settled, the lesson began.

But Peter decided not to pay attention that day. Instead, he searched on his laptop for every news outlet that might have reported on the robbery. He didn't find much, but he did find one that said that there were no suspects in custody, and that the investigation would remain open for an undetermined amount of time. Peter decided to peace out right after school and investigate on his own, but as Spider-Man. He was determined that someone had to have seen something.

It was gonna be a long day.


	2. A Proposition

The school day was a drag. Peter was itching to escape the confining walls of the building and swing through his beloved city. He looked at every exit door wistfully when he passed it, which landed him in an awkward situation when he wasn’t looking where he was going and bumped into Principal Morita. He tried his best to play it cool as he scampered away with a rushed apology. From then on, he passed the sluggish hours by talking to Ned about the robbery and making theories.

"Why are you so obsessed with it?" Michelle suddenly asked, and Peter once again jumped at her voice. He always forgot that she sat at the end of his and Ned's table at lunch, just within listening range. However, she was so quiet he would often forget she was there. She was looking up from her book, one of her hands wrapped around her coffee cup, which was from the Broadway Cafe. She wasn’t one the mainstream places, evidently.

"Like, why do you care?" She asked again, and Peter realized he was leaving her hanging.

"I don't know, it's just interesting to me," Peter answered, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"Well, I'm heading down to the crime scene to see if the Spider-Man shows up," Michelle said, looking back down at her book.

"You like Spider-Man?" Ned questioned, raising an interested eyebrow at Peter, causing him to blush lightly.

"I don't _like_ him, but the Bugle put out an ad asking for pictures of him. They'll pay good money for them too," she explained, giving an irritated look at Ned.

"The Bugle? Like the Daily Bugle? The newspaper?" Peter asked, never figuring Michelle as the photographer type.

"Duh, dork," she muttered, attempting to return to her book, but stilled before she could resume. She gave Peter an intrigued look, her dark brown eyes narrowed as she thought. Having them so focused on him made a shiver run down his spine, but he couldn’t make himself look away.

"If you really know Spider-Man, which I doubt, could you get him to maybe pose for me? I'd just want one or two," she asked, quirking her mouth as she awaited his reply.

Peter didn't know how to respond, because he didn't know how he felt about being a model for someone. He felt awkward just thinking about it. But since Michelle never asked him for anything, he thought he could oblige just this time. Maybe it could be an opportunity to get to know her better, even if it was as Spider-Man. As he maintained their heavy eye contact, he realized that he actually did want just that.

"S-Sure, yeah. If I see him, I'll make sure to ask," Peter agreed, nodding with a small grin. Was he being weird? He felt like he was being weird. Why did his skin feel like it was on fire?

She closed her book and got up from her seat. "Thanks, loser. Way to be a pal."

When she had gone, Ned stared at Peter, mouth agape in shock.

"You're really gonna pose for her?" He asked, acting appalled by the very notion of it, "What if she recognizes you?"

"First of all, stop saying the word "pose" because it’s starting to sound weird," Peter started, holding up a finger, "Second, what's the harm in it? She never asks for anything and I'll just disguise my voice anyway."

"Pete, just think about what you're doing," Ned prompted him, "Don’t do something stupid because you need a rebound."

The words hit him like a runaway train.

"A rebound?" Peter echoed, shocked that Ned would even think such a thing, "You think MJ's a rebound from Liz? Come on! I don’t even like her that way!"

"See, you're even using her nickname," his friend pointed out, getting up from his seat, "Just saying, man, know what you're doing."

Peter shook his head as he followed his friend. There was no way the snarky loner would be anything more than just a friend, or at least an unlikely acquaintance. He didn't like her that way, and believed he never would. 

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her eyes?


	3. Late Night Hero

Once the final bell rang, Peter was out of the school before anybody else. Wasting no time, he jogged a few blocks before diving into an alley to change. He beat his current record of six minutes by 30 seconds, and after webbing his backpack to the inside of a dumpster, he took off into the afternoon sky. Peter, now the Spiderman, swung freely through the city, webbing onto buildings and flinging himself through the air.

**Welcome back, Peter. Where to today?**

Peter used to jump at Karen's voice, but he had grown accustomed to hearing the friendly A.I's greeting every time he went crime fighting. She proved to be a great help as well as a good friend.

The air felt so good today, that he decided to put off the deli store until later. He told Karen that he was just out for some free roaming. And he did just that for most of the day, all while stopping hold-ups and the occasional bike robber.

When evening finally set in, Peter addressed Karen.

"393 Broadway," Peter told her, remembering the address that Ned had told him earlier that day, and Karen set out a route for him to follow. He figured it was time he looked into that deli robbery. Just thinking about it made him hungry.

He took a shortcut to where the broken-in deli was, following the route that Karen had mapped out for him. When he eventually landed on top of a building across the street, it was night. Peter crouched on the corner of the building as he peered down at the scene.

The store had yellow tape wrapped all around the front, and there were a few investigators picking through the shattered glass that sprinkled the sidewalk. The glass door had indeed been smashed to pieces, as well as the large window. Karen instantly zoomed in on one detective picking up a thick tuft of black hair.

"Run a scan, Karen," Peter politely asked his artificial companion, and several animals crossed his vision as Karen searched for a match.

**It's wolf fur.**

"Wolf?" Peter repeated, surprised, "That can't be right."

Suddenly, he heard an odd snapping sound. He turned quickly, holding out his hands, ready to web up the intruder.

"Cool it, Webs," MJ said, lowering her black vintage Polaroid camera as she inspected the photo when it popped out, biting her lip in concentration, "You look good in this one. All brooding and serious."

Peter was silent as Michelle looked back up at him. She was wearing her usual black Chuck Taylors and dark jeans, with a dark green jacket. He tried to shake himself out of his initial surprise when she started to speak.

"Did Parker talk to you?" She asked him, and he breathed a sigh relief when he realized she hadn't recognized him. But then again, how could she, with the mask and all.

"Uh, yeah, he did. Said a friend of his wanted some pictures or something," Peter replied, attempting to make his voice sound deeper and gruffer. He didn't want to activate the voice scrambler because it made him sound like a some cliche 80's villain.

She hummed in agreement, lifting her camera once more to snap another picture.

"He's your friend, right?" Peter asked, taking the opportunity to find out just what MJ thought of him.

"Sort of. He never really talks to me, but he's an okay guy for the most part," she answered, using her hand to tell him to change position. He jumped off the ledge and straightened up.

She then gave him an suspicious look, and she lowered her camera, "He didn't say anything about me, did he?"

What could he say to that? Speechless, Peter wracked his brain for an answer that wouldn't completely give him away. She continued to stare at him, her head cocked to the side, making her bangs fall over her face. He kind of liked it when her hair did that, as much as he tried to tell himself otherwise. Would it be inappropriate to move it aside for her so she could see better? Stop focusing on her hair, Parker!

"He didn't say much, expect that you liked sneaking up on people," Peter said, trying his hardest to sound not like himself.

Michelle nodded in quiet approval, mumbling, "Well, he's not wrong."

Peter laughed, accidentally letting his real voice slip through the minor chuckle. MJ's head tilted up, and for one horrible second, Peter thought she recognized him. Desperate to divert her attention, he struck a corny superhero pose, one that looked like he was about to shoot a web and fly off the building.

And for the first time in his life, Peter heard her laugh. As she snapped the picture, he kept replaying the laugh in his head, and he looked back to see her smiling at the picture. Wow, she had a great smile. How had he never seen it before? He couldn’t properly put into words what seeing it made him feel. All he knew was that he could've stared at her smiling for hours. A part of him protested this thought, but he couldn't help but notice such a stellar feature. She never smiled in school.

**Peter, you're heart rate is rising. Shall I activate Instant Kill Mode?**

"No!" Peter muttered angrily, wondering why the A.I always thought IK Mode was the only option.

MJ looked up in surprise, and Peter turned around, stumbling over his words to explain himself.

"I'm sorry, not you. Someone... else," he clarified, realizing how dumb that must sound.

"Well, while you tall at "someone else", I'm gonna go," Michelle said, giving him a two finger salute as she walked away, "Thanks again, Webs.”

He waved as she disappeared down the ladder that led to the fire escape. He remembered her laugh and it echoed once again in his head.

**Who was that, Peter? You seem nervous.**

"A friend," he replied simply, jumping back on the ledge so he could look down at the crime scene once more. The investigators were gone and there was one patrol car standing guard. Peter shot a web, diving closer to the store but being careful to remain unseen by the cop. As he studied the scene, he felt a tingle, and goosebumps rippled through his skin. He turned his head, noticing that he sensed something coming from the direction that Michelle would have taken if she'd just gotten down the fire escape.

Peter didn't know how he knew, but something was very, very wrong.


	4. Fight (For) Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From MJ’s POV.

***MJ's pov***

Michelle didn't think much of the superhero encounter. Not to mean that she wasn't impressed by Spider-Man, but it was sort of... normal, for lack of a better word. The web-slinging crime fighter seemed very down to earth and friendly. One thing she noticed in particular was how young he had sounded. She knew he had tried to use a fake voice, but that she understood. But his laugh was entirely real, and one she had heard before. But for the life of her she couldn't pinpoint where she’d heard it.

As she descended the last set of metal stairs, a thought struck her. Wouldn’t he only need to disguise his voice if they had met before? If he didn't know her, he wouldn't have to hide it. As MJ hit the cement pavement, she ran through her head who could possibly pass off as Spider-Man.

When Michelle had made it to the mouth of the alley, where a single car rolled lazily down the lane, she tensed. Not knowing why, she turned around, peering into the darkened alley. She had an eerie feeling that she was being watched. She fumbled in her pocket for her trusty can of pepper spray she always kept on her when she found herself on the streets at night.

She clutched at the small, compact canister as she quick walked down the sidewalk. The feeling of nervousness never left her, and when she decided to glance over her shoulder once more, she almost wished she hadn't.

Walking behind her was a shadowy figure, clothed in a black hoodie and dark trousers. Becoming fearful, she quickened her pace, only to have the stranger behind her match it. From an alley across the street, another figure appeared, crossing the street and heading toward her. Dressed similarly, Michelle mentally prepped herself for the impending fight. She wouldn't go down easily, that was for sure. 

Hopefully Spider-Man was still close by.

Ha, like she even needed him. Michelle was proud to say that she was very capable of defending herself. Her dad had taught her enough self-defense moves to get out of any kind of situation and her mom had taught her where to aim a kick. If things turned sour, she'd be just fine. 

Caught up in her own pride, she became aware of the sounds of running footsteps behind her. Immediately becoming alert, she glanced over her shoulder and saw her follower rushing toward her. As quick as lightning, Michelle whipped out her pepper spray and took that sucker down as soon as he was within range. The assailant fell back with an agonized cry, trying desperately to wipe off the stinging spray, and Michelle smirked at his futile attempt.

Then, for some reason she couldn't really explain, instinct turned her gaze upward. Her eyes went wide when she saw a large, bulky figure watching her from on top of a building across the street. With the moon on its back, MJ could just make out triangular ears pricked forward on top of its head, which was cocked to the side.

_What the f-._

She couldn’t finish her thought, however, because she was violently grabbed from behind. She had totally forgotten about the guy that had crossed the street earlier. The attacker wrapped his solid arms around her and began to drag her into the alley. The guy that got pepper-sprayed was struggling to find his feet, not taking his hands away from his face.

Michelle, nowhere close to giving up, attempted to step on her attacker's feet and kick his shins. He grunted in both pain and annoyance as he kept pulling her into the alley. She angled her spray can and pressed hard on the button, releasing a stream of the blinding substance. Some got in her own eyes, and while the guy cried out, she wriggled free of his now-loosened grip.

Eyes tearing up from the spray, she took off down the sidewalk. The two assailants barreled after her, though their steps were bumbling and they kept bumping into each other. Michelle quickly turned a corner and dove behind a dumpster in a darkened alley. They wouldn't be able to navigate quickly enough to follow her because of their blinded state.

Wiping her eyes and still clutching her reliable can of pepper spray, she peeked around the corner of the dumpster and saw the two standing at the mouth of the alley, heaving for breathe under a street light. They were wiping their eyes and cursing at each other angrily.

"You moron, you let her get away," Idiot 1 said to his partner.

"Me? You had her," Idiot 2 pointed out, shoving Idiot 1's shoulder, "You should've just stolen her wallet, but noooo, you decided that-."

"Shut up, Kyle," Idiot 1 snapped, and Michelle heard footsteps start approaching her hiding spot, "Let’s just get something to eat and call it a night."

As the footsteps came closer and their silhouettes lengthened, Michelle tried her hardest to hide in the shadows of the dumpster. She held her can of deadly spray at the ready in case she needed to call on it once again.

It was then that she noticed a pair of beady blue eyes glowing from the dark. They weren't looking at her though, for they were fixed on the pair of creeps heading straight for Michelle's hiding spot.

As soon as they appeared in front of her, one of them glanced at her and froze. He hit his friend on the shoulder and grinned menacingly. His friend followed his gaze and smiled in a similar way.

But those smiles vanished as a goosebump-inducing snarl echoed through the alley. The two looked down the alley, Michelle as well, and a huge, terrifying figure sprang from the shadows, careening into the thugs. They screamed as the giant, black-furred monster tackled them to the ground, standing over them with teeth bared and ears flattened against the top of its head. Michelle, ever the keen observer even in a time of panic, noticed that the fangs of this creature were silver, as well as its claws when it brandished them before the two criminals. The furry yet muscular monster picked up one of them in its huge paw and tossed him sky high across the street. His screams were cut off by a swinging stranger that grabbed him before he hit the ground.

The creature returned its attention to the remaining thug, and it wrapped its claws around his neck. Lifting him up, the monster brought his face close to its narrow nose, baring its silver teeth as the guy remained speechless in shock. The creature snarled ferociously in his face, prompting the thug to pass out from fear.

Seeing its victim no longer conscience, the monster tossed him to the side, the criminal sinking to the ground against the wall. It snorted, shaking its large head, and looked down at Michelle. In the dim light, she could take an accurate guess to what this thing was, and she feared that she would be the next victim of this creature's fury. But the werewolf's blue eyes were filled with nothing but sympathy, and its bristling fur went flat.

But those blue eyes threw her off. Which was weird oddly, because you'd think that a colossal wolf on two legs would be enough to throw anyone off. But it was the eyes that captivated her. They weren't like that of a wolf's, but a human.

Those were human eyes.

Suddenly, a silhouette appeared at the mouth of the alley, taking Michelle's attention away from the werewolf. But when she looked back at her uncanny rescuer, it was gone.

"Hello?" A very familiar voice called, and Michelle got to her feet, her legs stiff from crouching.

Getting out from behind the dumpster, she saw Spider-Man standing under the street light. She heard him breathe a sigh of relief when he saw her, and the lenses on his eyes went wide.

"Oh, it's you!" He exclaimed, walking toward her, "Are you okay?"

"No thanks to you," she retorted, taking her camera out of her jacket to make sure it wasn't damaged and stuffing her pepper spray can in her pocket.

"What happened?" Spider-Man asked, his voice searching, and once again, eerily familiar. But she was too frazzled to bother thinking about it.

"Two guys, a... thing, and a lot of pepper spray," was all she could respond. Spider-Man tipped his head, one eye lens shrinking.

"Well, okay then," he replied, sounding confused, "as long as you're alright."

"Yup, fine," she said, beginning to walk away toward the sidewalk.

"Do you want me to escort you home?" He asked, and she didn't shoot down the idea. She didn't want the event to happen again, and she'd feel a little safer with the web-slinger keeping watch.

"If you can keep up," she answered, turning the corner. She heard a whipping sound and the hero swung by.

"I don't think that'll be a problem."


	5. Drawing in Detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From MJ's POV

***MJ's pov***

Michelle could barely focus the next day of school. The previous night had been such a wild ride. Not only had she met the elusive Spider-Man, but she had been saved by a full-blown werewolf! Yeah, she knew that trippy stuff happened in New York all the time, like when a god shot a blue sky beam into the sky, or when aliens on flying jet skis tore through the Manhattan area, or that time Liz's father was a thieving bird man. Despite all that, Michelle had usually kept a straight face to the chaos that often unfolded. In a sense, she'd grown used to it.

But last night had changed all that. She’d kept a straight face to everything because she was never directly involved. But to be thrown in the middle of it, that was a completely new experience she didn't need.

After school, she went immediately to detention. Never in her life had she ever been sent there, for she went on her own free will. It was quiet and peaceful, and gave her time to think. She also liked to "sketch people in crisis", as how she put it. But thoughts from the night before kept attacking her brain, and she started to sketch pictures of Spider-Man to distract herself. She had appreciated how kind he was to her, not talking a lot as he escorted her back to her family's townhouse. She smiled when she recollected their last conversation.

_When they got to Michelle's front door, Spider-Man shot a web and hung upside down next to her doorway, his eye lenses wide as he stared at her._

_"So, uh, here we are," the web-slinger said, glancing toward Michelle's door. She noticed he was actually trying now to disguise his voice, and she thought his attempt was, while cute, was ridiculous. She shrugged and blew her bangs out of her eyes._

_"Yup, so it seems," she replied, and when he didn't move, she frowned at him, "What do you want? A gold star? A kiss? Beat it, Webs."_

_She heard him laugh softly, and she knew for sure she recognized that sound. It annoyed her to a major degree that she couldn't place who it belonged to._

_"I guess I'll see you around then," he said, but he stopped abruptly at the end of his sentence, as if he was going to say more but halted himself, "What’s your name again?"_

_"Never gave it to you, but it's Michelle. MJ to the people who know me."_

_"Do I know you?" He asked, genuinely curious as he leaned his masked head to the side._

_"Not until you can name my favorite color," she scoffed, closing her hand around the doorknob to her home._

_"Challenge accepted," was the last thing he said before he shot a web and soared up the building. When the hero had disappeared into the night, she stilled and stared at the spot she had last seen him._

God, I hope I see him again _, she then thought to herself._

Back in the present, Michelle found herself drawing a very detailed depiction of Spider-Man hanging upside down, his eye lenses as wide as before. A noise took her attention away as Peter Parker stumbled into the room. He had been grossly late to school and looked beat, dark circles under his intelligent brown eyes. Coach Wilson, the overseer of detention, told him to have a seat. Peter sat down and buried his face in his arms. Michelle quickly flipped the page of her sketchbook to a picture of a snarling wolf, completed with lightly shaded fangs to act as silver. It was the same one from the night before. She thought she owed it at least one or two drawings for saving her. And honestly, she was quite proud of herself for recalling its features so vividly. Flipping to a blank page, she focused on Peter and started to sketch him in his worn-down, weary state.

"You're drawing me, aren't you," he mumbled from beneath his arms, "I can hear your pencil moving."

"It's what I do, Parker," Michelle answered simply, starting to draw his eyes after she'd outlined his face, "What’s got you looking so beat? Not that I care or anything."

"Rough morning, is all," was his mumbled reply.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not really."

She grunted softly at his stubbornness, but forced his life issues out of her head as she started to shade his brown locks that draped carelessly over his face. 

"Oh yeah, thanks for hooking me up with Spider-Man," she said, glancing over at Coach Wilson to make sure he wouldn't overhear, but the coach was asleep in his armchair, headphones on. Peter gave her a peculiar yet interested look, "He’s actually a pretty cool guy. Much cooler than you."

"How so?" He asked, lifting his head and laying his chin on his hand.

"For one, he's not a dork," she started, and he rolled his brown eyes playfully, "and he's altogether pretty chill. Wouldn't expect that from a superhero."

"That's cool. He's usually like that," Peter said, but his tone almost sounded cocky as he added, "Yep, he’s pretty awesome once you get to know him."

"Suuure, Mr. "Fanboy" Parker," she sighed, smirking. She held up her finished drawing, and he raised an eyebrow.

"A wolf?" He questioned, and Michelle realized she'd held up the wrong side. Quickly, she flipped her sketchbook and showed him the right page.

"Do I look like that all the time?" He asked, and she nodded, quirking her chin.

"Sometimes, but it's not a bad look entirely," she pointed out, "Makes you look all serious. I'd say you rock the mad look, but I don't wanna inflate that bull-sized ego of yours."

He laughed slightly, turning his head away. But something clicked in Michelle's head. That laugh. She'd heard it before, and it puzzled her. Was it possible to hear the same laugh in different people? She figured, because there's no way a loser like Peter Parker would ever be a superhero.

Right?


	6. The Intern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From MJ's POV

***MJ's pov***

After detention, Michelle left and headed for the bus stop. Even in the late afternoon, she was wary about walking home. But she had to stop at the Daily Bugle first. She hoped to get some decent money out of the Spider-Man pictures, so at least last night wouldn't be a total waste.

As she waited at the bus spot, her eyes were locked on her phone as she played Flow. Not many people were out and about today because of the Fall chill that had set in over the Northeast.

Focused on connecting all the dots in her game, she didn't notice someone join her on the bench. She didn't give them too much attention, until she felt like she was being stared at. Glancing upward, she saw the guy quickly avert his gaze. He looked about her age and had light brown hair with very faint red highlights, as well as a some scruff on his cheeks. He looked like the type of guy that grew facial hair when he was fourteen, but it wasn't all weird and patchy. In fact, she'd reckon he cared for it rather well. She wrinkled her nose and looked away.

"I like that game too," he suddenly said, leaning slightly, his voice light and good-humored. Once again, she turned her attention to him. He wasn't looking at her, but her wore a small grin that made his blue eyes glitter.

"So do a million other people," Michelle replied, trying to sound as dismissive as possible so this random guy would stop talking to her.

"Where are you headed?" He asked, still hellbent on making conversation. She couldn't deny his politeness, but that was a rare thing in the city. Some people were genuine, but most were just creeps.

"Downtown," she mumbled, hoping that being vague would dissuade him.

It didn't.

"Hey, I'm going there too," he said, as if that coincidence that best thing that could have happened, "I have an internship at Oscorp."

Now that impressed her. Sure, her head slightly turned when Peter Parker had said he had an internship Stark Industries, but Oscorp was very selective about who it hired. You had to be hella smart and have basically no social life, devoting it instead to looking at test tubes and mixing chemicals. Kind of like Peter, actually. 

"What do you do there?" She asked, trying to act indifferent but she couldn't hold back her curiosity.

"I work in a lab mostly, with this genius scientist. I can't say much. The company's super secretive about its activities. Kinda like SHIELD was," the guy answered with a shrug.

"Do you like it?"

"It has its moments."

Michelle nodded, somewhat scolding herself for giving him so much of her attention. But she figured if he was going to be honest, so was she.

"I'm going to the Daily Bugle. Gonna try to sell some pictures," she said, not looking at him as he glanced her way.

"A photographer, eh?"

"Of a sort."

"Freelance?"

"Kind of."

He nodded in understanding. They sat in silence for a bit, both waiting for their bus to arrive.

"Name's Jack, by the way," he introduced himself, flashing a charming smile.

"Michelle," she said rather bluntly.

He smiled, then looked down the street. He checked the bulky hiker's watch he wore on his wrist, them checked the street again.

"This bus is super late," Jack observed, sounding both irritated and concerned.

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the bus appeared, driving at an incredibly fast rate. If there were more cars in the road, the vehicle would have barreled straight into them. But thankfully, this street was somewhat quiet. The few cars on the road were pulling over to the side and honking their horns.

"That doesn't look good," Jack said, standing up as the bus careened closer.

"No shit, Sherlock," Michelle scoffed, remaining in her seat as she watched the rolling rectangle.

"You think Spider-Man will stop it?" He asked, looking down at her.

Suddenly, there were blaring sirens and two cops cars appeared behind the bus, calling for the driver to slow down over a megaphone. But the bus didn't let up its pace. As it barreled by the bus stop, Jack stepped back, then took off in a sprint after it.

"Where are you going?!" She called after him, wondering how stupid you'd have to be to think you could chase down a speeding bus on foot.

Jack didn't answer as he vanished down the sidewalk. Michelle, with a groan of frustration, stood and starting to half-run, half-walk in pursuit. If Spider-Man were to show up, that would mean at least one good picture for the Daily Bugle. They might pay more for a photo of him in action. 

Then, she saw the bus, cop cars surrounding it. It had come to an abrupt halt in the middle of an intersection. As she drew nearer, she saw that smoke was pouring out of the front end. A helicopter hovered above the scene, and policemen were forming a line around the crash to keep the growing number of bystanders away. Through the pillar of smoke, Michelle saw a figure leap into the air, using the smoke for cover, clawing its way up the nearest building and disappearing onto the roof.

Taking out her phone, Michelle switched to the camera and held it up, zooming in closer. Then, out of nowhere, Spider-Man appeared, swooping down and landing on the roof of the bus. She took a quick picture, then started to record a video on her phone. Spider-Man broke a window and crawled into the smoking vehicle. A few minutes later, the pull-back doors were aggressively kicked open, and out came Spider-Man, carrying the driver over his shoulder. He gently placed him on the ground, and ran back inside. Within seconds he carried out a few more people, passengers most likely, and gave the approaching cop a thumbs up. Shooting a web, he swung away, disappearing above the surrounding buildings.

The bystanders cheered at his heroic rescue, and they started to talk excitedly among themselves. As Michelle weaved through the crowd, she picked up bits and pieces of the conversations going on around her. 

"Who was that first guy?"

"That was the Hulk, for sure."

"But it was too small! And it wasn't even green!"

"I thought I saw a tail on him too."

"No joke, bro, it decked that bus. Threw its shoulder into the bumper and it folded like paper."

Michelle's interest only escalated. A non-green thing, a possible tail, with the strength to level a bus. Was that her werewolf savior from the other night? And if it was, was it in league with Spider-Man?

Michelle then thought of Jack, the stranger she had met. He had left so quickly, acting like he was about to do something crazy. Moments later, the bus was smashed and Spider-Man appeared. Could the Oscorp intern be Spider-Man, or maybe even the werewolf?

Either way, that meant she was walking to the Bugle.


	7. Chasing Tails

He saw it.

He saw it for a split second.

As Peter rescued the passengers from the bus, all he could think about was the creature that had jumped away, blending in with the rising smoke as it leapt up the nearest building. The large, bushy-tailed thing stayed in his mind's eye as he set down the few passengers on the bus, and after he'd given a thumbs up to a nearby cop, a signal that it was all clear, Peter took off into the sky.

Using Karen, Peter desperately scanned the area for the creature, tracing every abnormal heat signature, every oversized figure, but it had disappeared. How does something like that just vanish? He stopped at the top of a nearby water tower, his hope of finding it completely disintegrating.

"Did you see anything from the bus, Karen?" Peter asked his A.I companion, sitting down on the tower in defeat.

**I'm sorry Peter, there was too much smoke. I didn't get anything.**

Peter sighed in disappointment, burying his face in his hands. Agitated, he took off his mask and ruffled his hair. He reeked of smoke, and shook his head.

After letting the afternoon air cool his face, he put back on his mask and replayed the seconds of the creature's appearance. It had had its back to him and Peter thought he could make out a black pelt, almost like fur. He must have replayed it twenty times before Karen suddenly addressed him.

**Peter, your friend from last night was at the scene.**

"What?! Where?!" Peter questioned, panic striking as his stomach turned in fear. What if Michelle had been in the bus? Had he been blinded by his own thoughts that he didn't even see her?

**I was running through the footage and I saw her standing on the sidewalk.**

Karen relayed the video to Peter's lenses, and he saw Michelle standing right where Karen said. She had her phone out, and then started walking through the crowd. Maybe she saw the creature, and could give him some answers. But he didn't want to wait till Monday to ask. Besides, there was no way he could ask anyway. Peter Parker wasn't even at the scene. Spider-Man was. That meant he needed to find her now, bearing only a semblance of an idea about where she was. He might not be able to find her if he let her slip away.

"Take me back to the crash," Peter ordered Karen in a brisk manner, and the A.I had a route mapped out in seconds. Peter retraced his swings and arrived back at the scene, which was now swarming with police and reporters.

"Run a facial scan," Peter said, leaning forward off the roof he crouched on. Zoomed-in faces began appearing on screen, no one being the one person he was looking for.

**Something tells me, by the direction she was moving, that she's going down the street.**

"Like, toward downtown?" Peter asked.

**That's what's something's telling me.**

"I'm pretty sure that "something" is a battery, Karen," he joked, laughing.

**Well, at least I'm doing more with my battery than you with your brain.**

"Wow, that was savage," Peter said, almost impressed by the sarcastic quip.

**If I knew what that meant, I would agree.**

Peter rolled his eyes, and then shot a web, leaving his roof behind as he took off toward downtown. He heard some people cheer as he swung by, but he paid them no mind. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

But the more he traveled, the further his hope fell. He landed on a roof and looked around at the street below. Disheartened, he sighed and shook his head.

Then, a thought occurred to him.

"Hey Karen, where's the Daily Bugle?" He asked.

Another eight blocks.

Not needing a GPS, Peter leapt off the building. He hoped that Michelle would be doing what he thought she would be doing.

Karen made the route appear while Peter was in the air. Following the street, he kept his eyes glued to the sidewalk. But it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

**Right!**

Peter had both a heartache and a surge of hope as he swung to a halt, colliding into the nearest building on his right. He gave the woman on the other side of the window quite a fright, and he waved apologetically before crawling into a nearby alley.

Looking down, his eye lenses widened. There she was, camera pointed up to take a picture of him. He waved to her and dropped down lower, not leaving the wall in case he needed to make a quick escape.

"You know, for someone who's very secretive about who they are, you do like getting your picture taken," Michelle observed with a smirk.

"What can I say? I'm photogenic."


	8. Things You Shouldn’t Know

"So, what brings you here, Webs?" Michelle asked as she inspected her photo, "looking for me or something?"

Peter let out a breathy laugh, then took on his disguised voice, "Yeah, actually. I saw you at the crash."

She gave him a peculiar look, "How’d you see me from where you were?"

"You're pretty hard to miss," he pointed out, his disguised voice making it sound like he had a cold.

Never would he ever admit that he had a crush on a Michelle. As much as Ned had teased him, Peter would never confess to something he didn't believe to be true. But while Peter Parker was a dork to Michelle, he thought maybe Spider-Man could be something more. Sure, Peter didn't have a crush, but Spider-Man definitely did.

Does that even make sense?

Looking back down at her picture, Michelle cleared her throat and asked, "What do you want, Websy?"

"Like I said, I saw you at the crash, and I was wondering if you saw anything," Peter said.

"Did you follow me or something? What took you so long to catch up?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow at Peter.

"Well, I kinda got lost and thought you could help," Peter replied with a shrug, "and I knew you were going to the Bugle so I thought I would-."

"How did you know that?"

"What?"

"How did you know that I was going to the Bugle?"

Peter remained quiet, seeing that he had just made a crucial mistake.

"I never told you where I was going before," she continued, giving me a quizzical look as she crossed her arms.

Crap, she was right. She had only told Peter and Ned that information. Realizing he was giving himself away, he scrambled for a believable excuse.

"When you took my pictures, I figured they were for the ad in the Daily Bugle.” Yeah, this was believable. He gestured a little too wildly with his hands. “I just kinda hoped that that would be today. That you did that. Sell the pictures, I mean. To the Bugle.”

_Stop talking._

She didn't seem convinced by his answer, but she nodded anyway. He silently kicked himself when he thought that he could've said that Peter had told Spider-Man. At least that would've made more sense!

"Okay, so again, what is it you want from me?" She asked, moving away from the subject as she looked at him. How many times had she asked that? He must have told her twice already. But he kept messing himself up and deviating.

"Did you see what crashed the bus?"

"No, but everyone was talking about it."

"What were they saying?"

"Some thought it was the Hulk. Others thought it had a tail, a big black thing that rammed the bus's bumper."

"But did you see it?"

"I saw it jump on a building, but there was too much smoke to pinpoint what it exactly looked like."

None of this was exactly helping Peter. He sighed heavily, drawing a hand over his masked face. Shaking his head, he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What do you think it is?" Michelle asked him curiously.

"I don't know. That's why I came looking for you," Peter answered.

There was another moment of silence, and Peter felt like he was losing Michelle's interest. Apart from meeting just days ago, he didn't think he'd quiet caught her attention. Besides, if he wanted to get to know her, he wanted her to know him too. Spider-Man couldn't get all the love. But he couldn't do that without Ned constantly poking fun at him, and that's something he'd want to avoid. But so what if Peter had a slightly, microscopic crush on her? That didn't mean anything.

Right?

"Could I, maybe see you again?" He chanced, and he got a raised eyebrow in response. He stuttered in an effort to clarify, "you know, outside of a crime thing that just happened?"

She seemed to think for a moment, and Peter feared she'd say no. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised. Like, who was he to ask such a thing? He was a masked vigilante! He could be anyone! That's not particularly someone you trust right off the bat.

"Fine, sure," she agreed, tossing her bangs out of her face. He liked when she did that. "Top of the library tomorrow night at eight. Bring me Starbucks."

"Hot chocolate with half-and-half, right?" Peter said instinctively. He didn't know how he knew that in exact detail, but he did know that she had that every morning in school. Wow, he must have been paying more attention to her than he though. Maybe Ned had a point.

But Peter knew that, not Spider-Man. He'd slipped up again.

"Peter told me," he added quickly before Michelle could say anything. He was just happy he got to use that excuse. However, Michelle frowned slightly, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I'm aware of you, Webs," she said, walking away backwards, pointing to her eyes then at him, "You’re on my radar."

When she had disappeared down the street, Peter heaved a sight, releasing the tension that had built up in his chest. But, he smiled to himself. Whether Michelle saw it that way or not, she had a date with Spider-Man.

**You're terrible at keeping yourself a secret, Peter.**

He rolled his eyes at Karen's condescending tone as he shot a web and returned to the air. Just how much sass did Mr.Stark program into this A.I.?

**How have you managed to even keep a secret identity?**

"Not appreciating the sarcasm, Karen."


	9. What the Hell, He’s Big Now 2.0

The rest of the day, Peter felt as light as a bird. As he soared through the city, he kept thinking about Michelle. Even as he punched a thug for stealing a woman's purse, he still wore a light-hearted smile. If he had not been wearing a mask, he would've looked crazy. As day slowly turned to night, Peter fought the weariness that was slowly creeping through him. Apart from the crash, not a lot had happened that day.

He finally came to rest on the Cyclone, a roller coaster on Coney Island. He was quite fond of the spot right before the drop because he remembered watching the Vulture being captured from there. Peter silently admitted that he was somewhat proud of his achievement, even though that had dragged Liz, his longtime crush, across America. After mourning her move for maybe the longest time ever, he finally felt free of her, but not in a bad way at.

And Michelle was the one who freed him. Kind of random. Kind of awesome.

Who knew that he would ever like someone like the mysterious Michelle? But what exactly had even caught his attention in the first place? Was it the sarcastic wit she always carried? Her hypnotic eyes that shown through her bangs, a dark chocolate color? Maybe it was the fact that everything she did was honest and true to herself. She wasn't fake and did nothing to mask her personality, even if she was standing in front of a superhero.

Amidst his euphoria, a strange shiver ran through his body. Looking around, something else seemed to be moving his head, pointing it in a very specific direction. Peering through the shadows that cloaked the closed fairgrounds, Peter thought he saw a figure moving around, dodging behind the various rides and standees. At first, he thought it was the night watchman or security guards, but their moves were too deliberately discreet. Watching it closely, he observed as it moved stealthily from corner to corner. There was a moment of stillness, and Peter wondered if he should do something. This mysterious person was just prowling, but he wasn't doing anything super illegal. He thought about what Tony Stark would do, but when he couldn't come with anything that didn't involve blowing something up, he decided to just anxiously await the stranger's next move.

He immediately regretted that decision when the figure broke into a sprint across the grounds, and threw themselves into the door of a fair building, where management kept the earnings of the park.

Jumping into action, Peter webbed to the nearest building and ran the rest of the way. He slowed when he came to the busted door, picking up sounds of metal clanging and rifling. He casually strutted up and leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His silhouette cast a shadow on the opposite wall of the confined room, and Karen turned on night vision. Through the clear green hue, Peter couldn't spot his perp. There was a shelf in the room that Peter figured he must be standing behind.

Then, the shuffling went still, and Peter cleared his throat, beginning, "You know, I gotta admit, I'm sure this endeavor would have gone unnoticed if I didn't happen to be hanging around."

A gruff, scratchy voice replied, "Yeah, a shame."

"So why don't you do me a favor and cut out now, and I'll let you go, provided you leave whatever you stole here," Peter offered generously.

There was a harsh laugh, and the figure, appearing to be a guy maybe a few inches taller than Peter, stepped out from behind the shelf. He was wearing all black, from black gloves to a black ski-mask. Even his eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses. On his back was a large black backpack, probably full of stolen stuff.

"How about another offer," the stranger suggested, " _You_  cut out now, and maybe this won't get messy, eh?"

"Yeah, it's gonna be a no from me," Peter replied, straightening up in the doorway.

The stranger cracked his neck, shaking out his shoulders.

"So be it."

Remember when Ant Man turned into Big Man when Peter was fighting Captain America's crew a while back? Yeah, it was like watching that all over again.

The guy grew huge, granted not as tall as Ant Man, but maybe two-thirds the size of the Hulk. He ripped from his clothes, except for his pants, thank God, which turned into shredded shorts. His blues eyes glowed as a snout formed and a wolf head tore from the ski mask. Black fur took the place of the black leather jacket and a tail sprouted behind him, thrashing wildly.

The werewolf smiled down at him, almost in way that asked the web-slinger if he was impressed. For Peter, that's not the word he would use.

“Okay, I think I speak for everyone here when I say what the _hell,_ ”was Peter could think to say.

”Says the spider,” the werewolf scoffed back.

”Hey, it’s a gimmick, not a fursona.”

This couldn’t be the thing that stopped the bus earlier that day? He had saved people! Why had he suddenly turned into a thief?

"So, how do you want to do this?" The werewolf asked. His voice was now exponentially deeper. "Like, dance battle-style? We talking Step Up or Stomp The Yard?" Peter tipped his head in confusion. The creature seemed to scramble for something to say. "I'm also partial to boxing. Left my gloves at home, though." He tried to make it sound like a joke, but Peter wasn't laughing. "Nothing? Look, I don't usually do "big superhero fights" so you gotta help me out here."

Peter pressed his lips together, hands on his hips. "Uh, punching works?" He offered.

"Ugh, so uncivilized," the werewolf grumbled with a roll of his eyes. He then lunged at Peter, gripping the webslinger's shoulders in his metal-clad claws and slamming him into the ground. As the monster bared its teeth, Peter caught a silver glint. Was that metal on his fangs too?

_Wait, did he just quote Star Wars?_

Before he could think about it any further, he rolled away before the werewolf could tear into him. He went into his signature crouch, and the beast whirled to face him.

"Uh oh," Peter said mockingly as the wolf glared at him, "Somebody's been a bad dog."

What followed was Peter getting tossed around by a jacked-up wolfman guy. Peter tried to web him up into a restraint, but his opponent was so strong, he'd just tear himself free. Peter aimed to capture the backpack still fastened on the werewolf's back, but the creature was hellbent on defending it.

Peter had an advantage with his swinging, constantly leaping away from the beast's attacks. But the thing had a pretty good vertical, and Peter found himself more on the run than on the defensive. When the hero webbed the werewolf's fist to a trash can, he merely picked it up and used it to bludgeon Peter when he got close.

But eventually, the werewolf gave up on fighting, and after throwing the trash can at Peter, he took off into a sprint in an attempt to escape. He dove into the shadows and vanished. Even with night vision, he was hard to see.

**I have him, Peter. He's going back to the city through the sewers, hiding west. Keep following him.**

The city? Would he really risk being seen again? After the bus, Peter felt like the werewolf would want to lay low. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

Peter gave him credit for being so fast. Even swinging as quick as he was, the werewolf was speedy when he ran on all fours, clinging to the shadows for cover when he came above ground. His black fur made him almost invisible, especially to pedestrians he passed, who appeared to not even notice his presence. All they saw was Spider-Man swinging frantically through the streets.

Suddenly, the wolf leapt, utilizing a powerful jump to land on a rooftop. As he sprang from roof to roof, Peter followed close behind. As they neared Manhattan, Peter feared that he may lose him in the city.

Right as he came to the last rooftop on the street, Peter landed and attempted to trip him up by webbing the monster's ankles. But he dodged, and as Peter ran up to him as they neared the edge of the roof, the werewolf turned around as quick as lightning and caught Peter by the throat, lifting him up off the group.

Baring his silvery fangs in Peter's face, the werewolf snarled with flattened ears, "Leave me be."

He then head-butted Peter hard before crushing the hero face-first into a AC generator. Falling to the ground, Peter felt a agonizing yet numbing pain on the side of his face. As he attempted to lift himself up, he heard the heavy footsteps of, as Peter decided to simply call him, "Werewolf". The powerfully built foe pressed his foot on Peter's back and shoved him back to the ground, and the web-slinger hit his head hard. Dazed and in pain, Werewolf picked him up once again, Peter limp in his grasp as the beast clutched the back of his costume.

Werewolf gazed at him curiously, his blue eyes full of intelligence and malice. With a huffed smirk, he stated, "If I cared about who you were, I'd happily rid you of that mask."

**I've got a tracker on him, Peter. Get out of there.**

But there wasn't much Peter could do to follow Karen's order, because his strength wasn't coming to him. His head pounded from the hits he just took, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

"But since I couldn't care less, it appears that we're done here," Werewolf said, and he started dragging Peter to the edge of the roof, where the street lay between the rows of townhouses.

"Tell the cement I say hello," the monster jeered, and before Peter could try to fight his grip, he felt himself being thrown through the air.

As quick as he could, Peter shot a web to try and stop his fall, but it only slowed him. But he'd take that than hitting the pavement full force.

As he lay on the sidewalk, a flickering streetlamp giving him light, Peter struggled to regain his breath. He felt exhausted from the fight and the headshots he had taken, and his head throbbed painfully. For a few moments, he just lay there, relishing the seconds of peace.

He then felt the familiar vibration of his phone, and he was slow to retrieve the device he kept in a small, steel compartment on his belt. Like always, it was fine. The screen read that his aunt was calling.

 _Probably wondering where I am_ , Peter thought. He tapped on the icon and put his phone to his ear.

"What's up, May?" He greeted, trying his hardest to mask his pain as he lifted his mask over his mouth so he could talk more clearly.

"Peter? Where are you? It's late," she started, and Peter could tell she sounded worried.

"I'm, uh, I'm okay. I'm on my way home now."

"Are you okay, Peter? You sound funit."

"No, I'm fine. I'll be home in a half hour."

"I don't buy that for a second. Tell me where you are. I'll come get you."

As much as he protested, he eventually gave her the street name. As he waited, he managed to drag himself into the bushes so he couldn't be found.

Then, right next to his bush, a door to one of the apartments opened. The opener looked out, a flashlight dancing around the spot he'd just been. After a minute of searching, the light turned off.

"There's no one out there, Mom," a voice said as the door shut, a voice so recognizable that it made both his head hurt but his heart lift.

The Ole Parker Luck struck him again, making him crash land in front of Michelle's home.


	10. Myth No More

Peter lay across the backseat of Aunt May's car. Whatever she was telling him, Peter didn't hear a word it. He was so spaced out that he could barely understand her. With the mixture of his exhaustion and a pounding headache, he was surprised he hadn't passed out by now.

"Peter, you never told me who did this," May said, Peter focusing just enough to where he could make out her words.

But how could he explain? It wasn't particularly like the last time he'd fought a powerful villain. At least the Vulture had been human, and it's not like he had actual wings. But Peter had just faced a real live werewolf. No costume or robotics. Just strictly flesh that turned to fur. It was like the Hulk, but much, much weirder. Because instead of becoming a big green rage monster, the thief had become a big... wolf. He felt silly just thinking it, let alone saying it.

"Just some thugs, May," Peter lied, thinking she'd never believe him if he told her the truth. Even in a world full of superheroes with different powers, fighting a mythological creature seemed like a stretch.

The only one he could think to tell was Ned. He usually seemed to be on board with most of Peter's adventures. Besides, Ned enjoyed talking about Spider-Man and his antics more than Peter did.

Maybe if he gave his best friend a call, and told him what happened, he would meet him at his apartment in the morning. Peter just really needed someone to talk to, as well as a good night's sleep.

\---------------

***Werewolf's pov***

After tossing the pesky superhero clear into the road, the lycan didn't wait for him to swing back. He jumped off the building, landing with a thud, and hightailed it as fast as possible. Making sure to stick to the shadows, he tried to be stealthy but as quick as possible at the same time.

He crossed a bridge, keeping to the railings that hung over the busy roads. He hoped nobody would see him from his place above the street. He remembered how easy it was to just take the bus to Coney Island, and he would've taken it back if that blasted Spider-Man hadn't shown up and made everything difficult.

Brushing the thought away, he made it to the outskirts of Manhattan and climbed a building, avoiding the windows, and started jumping from roof to roof as he made his way through downtown. He was heading for one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city, rivaled only by the Avengers Tower.

He stopped at one of the neighboring buildings and looked up. The Oscorp building was particularly daunting at night, but most of the office lights were off. Except for the middle layer of windows, where the science labs were located. He had to climb that whole way, just like always, and hope that no night tour helicopters were out. He always thought that he'd be a sight to see during a tour.

The lycan adjusted the now-smaller backpack on his shoulders. He was impressed with the straps, surprised that they had held together so long. He'd have to write the company that made it a good review.

He crouched on all fours and gathered strength, eventually launching himself across the street and sidewalk. He landed on a window pane with a thud, and prayed he didn't create a crack. When he saw that he hadn't, since he had landed on steel siding, he was careful to strategically place his claws on the jutting-out steel beams that criss-crossed the building. Following his usual routine, he scaled the tower easily, his piercing blue eyes locked on the lit windows.

Eventually, the lycan reached a window, and saw that it was open slightly like always. He pushed it wide with a dainty paw, being dutiful to not scratch the glass. He lifted himself through the window and hopped inside the bare room, furnished with a solitary bench and a single lamp for light. He snorted and shook his head, some stray hairs flying off his thick black pelt. He looked to the bench and saw a white tee shirt and gray sweatpants, along with some shabby brown sandals and underwear. He had always had a back-up pair of clothes in this room if he ever needed them.

The lycan took a deep breath and felt himself relax, and he began to shrink as his wolf fur fell away. It shedded off him like an oversized snow coat, dissolving when it hit the ground. After a few moments, a well-built teenage boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen years of age, stood where an imposing wolf did seconds before, his hair dirty blond and some scruff on his cheeks.

Struggling to hold up his far-stretched pants, he set his backpack on the floor and quickly changed into his waiting clothes. Afterward, he closed the window and opened the door into the laboratory, taking his backpack to the main lab, where a scientist was hard at work.

The scientist, a middle-aged blond-haired man with one arm and glasses, turned as the teen entered.

"I see you used the Wolf Window, Mr.Russoff," the man said, looking back into his microscope and adjusting it, "I hope everything went accordingly."

"Yeah, just had a little run-in with a local vigilante," Jack replied, hating the fact the scientist insisted on using his real name, "but I took care of him, Connors."

Dr.Connors glanced up from his tool, giving his pupil a hard look.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

"Of course not. The kid's too stubborn to die."

"Good. The last thing we need is the Avengers living up to their name and coming after us," Connors grunted, leaning against the metal table where all his instruments were laid out, "especially with your little stunt with the bus the other day."

"You know I had no choice, Connors," Jack stated firmly, his blue eyes flashing, "I wasn't about to let that thing run over innocent people."

"It wasn't your job."

"Doesn't matter. I did the right thing when Bug Boy wasn't there to."

"And you almost exposed yourself in the process."

"But I was careful, wasn't I?"

"Yes, now everyone's talking about the Hulk's triumphant return to hero work in New York," the doctor said, almost mockingly. He then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "just don't do it again."

Jack frowned. He didn't know if he would ever have to. He just hoped Spider-Man wouldn't slack off and make Jack do his job for him. He didn't want to be the next vigilante in a world of heroes. He could never fit in with those guys. Besides, he didn't know if he even wanted to. They had fended off universal attacks, some with massive civilian casualties. And that thing with Sokovia? Nah, Jack would rather keep his hands clean and stay out of it.

"But anyway, what did you get?" Connors said, straightening up and adjusting his glasses.

"Enough. They didn't empty the safe yet and there was easily $500 in it. Don't worry, I got it all," Jack reported, holding up the backpack proudly.

"That's not nearly enough. Our funding is so close to being cut, so we need to stock up as much as we can," the determined scientist said, pulling up a blue, hazy hologram of his progress. A depiction of a lycan-like tiger, lizard, and wolf appeared, looking around with small, lifeless eyes. Dr.Connors put a hand on Jack's shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"We're so close, Jacob. I can almost feel my hand again."

"Don't get too excited, Connors," Jack steadied, stepping away from his mentor when he heard his real first name, "we've still a long way to go."

"And the more money we have, the faster we'll get there," Connors pointed out, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, "with more money, we'll be able to create powers of strength and regeneration!"

"Yeah, money and my blood," Jack retorted with a smirk, "and I don't know if people would want to be lycans just so they'd have a limb back."

"Oh, of course Mr.Russoff, or Russell now, is it? But anyway, that's why we have your teeth and claws encased with metal to keep the more... venomous properties within you. Your blood, when it's broken down and reconstructed, is all we need. And this little thing," the scientist gestured to the holograms, "is my own little venture, for after we harness your regeneration and regrow legs and arms, we'll begin... more interesting projects."

"Whatever you say, Doc," the teen sighed with a roll of his eyes, thinking Dr.Connors little plan would never actually be put into effect. Create more lycans? The thought was nonexistent for him.

"Well, if that's it, get some sleep, Conman," Jack said, taking an iPod and earbuds out his backpack and walking back to his Wolf Window, "remember the field trip we've got on Monday."

"Don't they know I can only handle one teenager at a time?" Connors muttered when Jack was out of earshot.

When Jack returned to his room, he quickly stripped and returned to his wolf form with a grunt. He neatly folded his clothes back up and returned them to the bench, making a note to wash them tomorrow. Jack plugged in the earbuds to his iPod and retrieved the armband he kept next to his clothing. Setting the iPod inside the armband's handy phone holder, he selected a playlist and wrapped the band around his muscled upper arm. Fixing the earbuds in his triangular ears, he opened the window and slipped out, pressing play. As he clawed up the building, he unashamedly sang the words to some of his favorite songs.

 _For you I'd beg like a broke man, steal your heart if I got the chance,_ Jack sang in his head as he reached the roof. _I'd borrow every little thing I can. For you I'd beg, steal, borrow._

As Jack stared at the beautiful city in all its shimmering nighttime glory, he almost didn't want to go home. He could sit and stare for hours. Nothing was better to look at.

Except maybe that girl he met at a bus stop not too long ago. He knew her from when he'd saved her in the alley a few nights before too. It had startled Jack somewhat, seeing her afterward. Frankly, he thought he'd never see her again. But he remembered how sneakily pretty she was, even though he could tell she tried to hide it. And those glittering hazel those eyes shone through the bangs across her face. He wondered where she was, and if he'd see her again. He couldn't even remember what her name was, and that bothered him to an extent. If that bus hadn't shown up, he reckoned they could've been friends. God, he really wanted a friend.

He hastily shook the thought from his head. _Best not to get distracted with such things,_ he told himself. He had more important stuff to think about. Like maybe how he should hit another deli store for dinner before bed. He swiped his tongue across his jaws at the idea. Hopefully he wouldn't make as big a mess of it like last time.


	11. Black Eyes and Waffles

Peter's sleep wasn't peaceful. His dreams were full of wolves, and a werewolf with metal wings flying around looking for him. They all had haunting blue eyes and were big and powerful. They were constantly snarling and growling his name as they swarmed the black plain of Peter's dreamscape.

Suddenly, a werewolf looked right at him, turning around to face him. An evil smile crossed his jaws, his teeth glinting from the metal that encased his fangs. Peter couldn't move, frozen to the spot with no way of escaping.

"It's time to wake up, Spidey," Werewolf said as he stalked toward Peter, all the while growing taller and more powerful-looking.

"Wake up, Spidey," another voice echoed, much louder and invasive.

"Yes, do wake up," Werewolf said with mocking softness, brandishing his metallic claws. Peter saw the other wolves were backing the main werewolf up, their dark fur bristling and their eyes glowing blue. "Wake up before we start getting... hungry."

"Peter, you have to get up," that was Aunt May's voice. Peter knew he had to lurch out of this nightmare somehow. As the wolves loomed over him, he blinked hard, and they evaporated before him with a poof.

And then, as if by magic, Peter was back in his room, waking up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Aunt May was looking through his door, holding up an ice pack wrapped in a towel for him to see.

"You need to ice your eye. It's really bruised up," his aunt said, walking in as Peter sat up, "and Ned's gonna be here in a bit, just like you asked."

"Awesome," Peter grumbled, taking the ice pack and pressing it against the side of his face, "when's he gonna be here?"

"In a few minutes. I'll make you guys some waffles."

"Thanks," he said, quite grateful for the opportunity to have his favorite breakfast.

When she had left the room, Peter lay back down, the ice pack still on his face. He was happy that Ned was coming over. He badly needed to tell his story to someone that would listen, at the very least. Besides, who would believe him if Ned didn't?

A few minutes later, he heard a knock on his door and his best friend walked in. Peter sat up and Ned sat down at the end of his bunk bed.

"Alright, what happened this time?" He asked, as if this wasn't the first time this kind of thing had happened. Which it wasn't. This had happened multiple times. Just never with a werewolf.

Peter wasted no time spilling the details, despite his aching head and his grogginess. Ned listened intently as Peter told his wild story, from the bus crash to Werewolf tossing him into the street.

"Wow, that's... awesome," Ned finally said after Peter told him everything. He then asked excitedly, "are you really going on a date with Michelle?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me? I just told you I fought a literal werewolf and all you heard was that?"

"Well, first of all, it sounds like you fought a lycan, not a werewolf. If he changed voluntarily, that's a lycan. Werewolves only change during the full moon and-."

"Ned, that's not the point. There's a werew- pardon me- a _lycan_ running around New York, and he just handed my ass to me on a silver platter."

"Yeah, that kind of sucks, bro. But that thing with the bus. All the news stations are saying that was the Hulk."

"But it wasn't him! He's been gone for months! This was a werewolf!"

Ned raised an eyebrow.

" _Lycan!_ Whatever!" Peter tossed his hands in the air, "what do I do, Ned? Do I tell Mr.Stark?"

Ned shook his head. "maybe just tell Happy, to make him at least aware. That way, if it blows up, Mr.Stark can't say that you didn't tell him."

"But Happy will just blow me off," Peter pointed out with a grumble, crossing his arms.

"Exactly, that way it's on him, not you, if this lycan problem gets out of hand," Ned said, tapping the side of his temple.

Peter pointed to him, his brown eyes wide with agreement. "That's a solid point."

"I have those sometimes."

"Waffles are ready, boys!" Aunt May called, and a giant smile overtook Ned's face.

"Have I ever said how much I love your aunt?" Ned asked as they got up to go to the kitchen.


	12. Revelation

***MJ's pov***

_It's not a date._

_I barely know him._

_He's a superhero and you're you._

_Whatever, it's just not a date._

Michelle couldn't get Spider-Man out of her head. This was the first time in her life that a guy had occupied her thoughts. Let alone a freaking superhero. What had she done to even get this guy's attention? The more he talked to her, the more her suspicion grew.

She was certain Spider-Man was someone she knew. In fact, he seemed to know her. She refused to believe _Peter the Dork_ talked about her to the web-slinger, especially when it came to what her favorite thing to drink from Starbucks was, not that she was that mainstream all the time. She just didn't think Spider-Man knew where to find her favorite little cafe, so she gave him a popular one to ease his effort.

Her favorite reading spot was on top of the library. Almost every day, she found herself on its roof. The janitor, who was her older sister, always kept it unlocked just for Michelle. There was the usual bustle of traffic in the streets below, but it was more soothing than irritating. And the buildings surrounding the library provided just enough light to read. She even had her own little nook set up for her usual visits, with a blanket and pillow her sister kept safe for her.

It was Sunday night, and seven o'clock was turning to eight. She didn't expect her superhero to show up on time. Or at all. She knew that life could get in the way of his promise, and maybe he'd have to save the world in the next two hours. She wasn't the kind to get mad because of life changes. She completely understood, especially when it came to Spider-Man.

She was almost done with her book, the one she'd been reading all month. If she finished it before Spider-Man showed up, she'd be really bored waiting for him. She should've brought a second book. Blowing the bangs out of her eyes, she adjusted the thick black-framed glasses she wore. Michelle had perfect eyesight, but sometimes wore the glasses for fun. They used to belong to Peter, but when she followed him one day after he left during gym class, she found the on the school steps. She had picked them up with hopes of returning them, but for some reason, she ended up keeping them.

And no, she didn't want a token of Peter's. She wasn't that sentimental. Michelle wasn't falling over him like Liz had done. Like there was anything to even fall over really. Sure, she guessed he was cute in his own dorky way, but Peter would never go for someone like her, even if she was the slightest bit interested, which she wasn't. Not like she wanted him to go for her, of course. Besides, the glasses were just sitting there, on the ground, abandoned. She noticed that they were a smashing pair of Warby Parker's, which was ironic, and she took it upon herself to keep them. They were in perfect shape despite being dropped and bore a classy, well-read look. She never wore them in school though. If Peter saw her with them, he would start thinking things and everything would get awkward and Michelle was not about that life.

It was a quarter passed eight when she decided to turn on her radio. It was small and vintage-looking, but its two stations played only the news and Frank Sinatra songs. As she was tuning it, she crossed the news portion and listened to a quick headline before switching.

_Avengers spokesman Tony Stark has yet to comment on The Incredible Hulk's triumphant return to New York this weekend, after a Queens bus driver suffered a heart attack at the wheel. In other news, the Coney Islands fairgrounds was robbed of over $500 dollars last night with no suspects. Police have yet to comment on how long the investigation will remain open..._

Just as Michelle had turned the station to Sinatra singing "Fly Me To The Moon", she heard a familiar whipping sound approaching. She nodded in approval. He had beaten her before she could finish her last few pages. Spider-Man did a circle around the library, as if he were scoping out the rooftop looking for her.

Suddenly, Spider-Man landed on the ledge, in his almost-classic crouch. In his hand, he carried a single solitary cup. To her disbelief, it bore the logo of the Broadway Cafe, her special little coffee shop in Soho. There was no way in the world that he could ever know that. Even if he claimed Peter told him, she didn't think that nerd paid _that_ much attention to know.

Before she even said anything, Spider-Man held out the cup to her, saying, "Pete said that you hate mainstream, so he told of this little location you prefer."

Michelle didn't know what to say. _Did_ Peter pay that much attention to her?

"Why do you two even talk about me?" She managed to ask, sitting up.

"Uh," he stuttered, sitting down on the ledge and kicking his legs, "it's really... more him than... me. He just tells me little things."

 _What's up with you, Parker?_ Michell thought to herself. Why would Peter ever talk about her with a superhero? It didn't even make sense. Have they ever had an actual conversation that didn't involve Decathlon or school in general?

"That's... weird of him," she mumbled, setting her book down on her lap and staring at the cover.

"I think it's cute actually," he said in his usual fake voice as he jumped off the ledge and handed her the hot chocolate. God, she wished he'd stop using that voice. He sounded ridiculous and she found it hard to take him seriously.

"I guess, but it's whatever. He doesn't care about me and we're barely friends," Michelle quipped, and when she looked up, the superhero was gazing at her, his lenses narrowed as he sat down beside her.

"Are those..." he stopped himself mid sentence, swallowed nervously, and carried on, "Peter's glasses?"

Like lightning, Michelle had the glasses off and stowed in her pocket. He continued to stare at her with his head tilted and she managed to bluster anxiously, "no, they're not."

"Number one; I know they are because they have his initials in the upper right of his left lens. That's how I recognize them,' he started, and Michelle tried to hide her embarrassed blush, "secondly, you actually looked pretty in them. And thirdly, if they weren't his, why hide them?"

"Well, why hide your voice?" She retorted, raising an eyebrow as he stuck his head up at her question, and she continued, "if I don't know you, why hide your voice, huh?"

Spider-Man seemed stunned, and he didn't say anything for what felt like forever. Michelle was mentally kicking herself in response to his silence. She had made things awkward for the first real friend she seemed to have, right after he called her pretty. A freaking superhero called her _pretty._ And she had the audacity to make it awkward. Of course she did. That's why she didn't have any friends.

"Uh, it's the mask," he pointed out, his words fumbling as he searched for an explanation, "it muffles everything I say."

"That explains a lot, because sometimes I can barely understand you, Webs," she tried to say humorously despite her churning thoughts, "it's either that or you're gargling marbles under there."

The hero laughed, even though it sounded nervous. And hella familiar. In a quick rewind of the last week, she tried to pinpoint where she had heard it. She wasn't just going to brush it off as coincidence like the last few times.

Until it hit her like a train in the subway.

How had Michelle not guessed it before? It was so obvious! No two people could laugh that much alike, especially with an incredible laugh like his, not that she noticed that. It would also explain why he disguised his voice the way he did. It was also really weird and the new fact kind of surprised her. How had he done it for so long, keeping the whole thing a secret? Did anyone else know? Geez, did Tony Stark, an actual superhero, know? But it explained so much, like knowing things only _he_ knew, like what her favorite drink was, and more importantly, where to find it. That surprised her too, in fact. He seemed to know a lot, despite them not really ever talking, Sure, she was always observant when it came to him, but she never would have guessed he was the same way with her.

But she wasn't obsessed with him. She was just observant. That's it. That's where it ended.

Suddenly, Peter did something Michelle didn't expect him to. He actually pulled up his mask to just under his nose, revealing only the lower part of his face. That only confirmed her realization. She'd recognize that jawline almost anywhere.

After another few seconds, he choked out in his normal, Peter voice, "Better?"

Instead of decreasing the experience's own value, knowing who he was only increased it. This was Peter Parker, a guy who went to her school that called her pretty. That alone blew her mind. Sure, it was nice to get complimented by a superhero, but knowing it came from him was something more. Mr.Parker, the boy who had hopelessly pined after Liz Allen no more than a month ago, was now liking her. Should she be offended about being his rebound?

"I think it is," Michelle said with a smirk. It was brave of him to oblige her at least, when it came to his mask. He had risked his identity, and sure, it may have fallen through, but that meant he trusted her. But that meant that Peter knew she wore his glasses. God, that was probably the worst thing out of this realization.

They sat in awkward silence, except for Frank Sinatra singing "My Way" on the radio. As she sipped her hot chocolate, she could feel his eyes on her. Those weird intrusive brown eyes that never missed a thing.

"You know why I wear it? The mask?" He then asked, breaking the quiet. Michelle thought he must be really desperate for conversation to want to talk about that.

"Because you're hideous underneath there?" She remarked rather snarkily, even though his appearance was far from that.

He frowned, then answered, "it's because I don't want the guys I fight to know I'm afraid of them."

She raised an eyebrow. Peter didn't want to show his fear? She thought he'd say something something cheesy about protecting his loved ones, but that was a very human reason, she supposed. Michelle figured that if she were in his skin-tight suit, she'd think the same.

"So, does that mean you're afraid of me?" She asked with a sly smile.

"Quite terrified actually," he admitted with another laugh. She didn't know why, but Michelle felt herself relishing the conversation they were having. Peter never had interested her before, but she didn't realize there was a whole other side of him she didn't know existed. And no, the fact he was Spider-Man meant absolutely nothing to her. It was the fact that he wasn't like he always was. Shy, reserved, a total doe-eyed dork. Of course he was still a dork, even as Spider-Man, but he carried himself with more conviction, spoke with more confidence, and generally seemed more at ease. When he was his regular self, she thought him no more than an easily-startled rabbit.

"Ah, don't be," she said with a wave of her hand, "there are worse things to fear."

"Wouldn't I know," he sighed, shaking his head. She asked him what he meant, and he flew into a spiel about his adventures with the Iron Man and his battle with the villian he called The Vulture. She listened, admiring his enthusiasm and loving the way he told his stories, and how he was careful about not revealing his identity to her. If this was what Peter was like as Spider-Man, she wished he stayed like this all the time. He was so lively and funny, things she didn't think he was capable of.

He was about to go into how he was offered a spot on the Avengers when the wailing of a siren cut him off. Glancing at each other, they both went to the ledge and watched a fire engine race down the road, cars pulling over to let it pass.

"I should probably do something about that," Peter said, looking after the truck. Was that disappointment she heard in his tone? Was he actually upset that he had to leave? She admitted that she was a little disappointed too. She really liked talking to him, or at least him talking to her. He jumped onto the ledge, and before he could pull his mask down, Michelle caught his rising arm. He turned to her, and she could tell he was surprised.

"Thanks, Webs, for being a cool guy," she told him, and he smiled down at her. She could just imagine the sparkle of his brown eyes behind the mask.

His next action startled Michelle, but she also strangely loved it. He leaned down and gave her a soft, lingering peck on the cheek, making her blush bright red. He locked eyes with her, and he stared at her for what felt like the longest time.

"And thank you, Michelle, for everything."


	13. I'm No Hero

Personally, Peter thought she'd smack him. As he swung away from Michelle, he whooped joyously, not being able to keep his emotions in. His stomach was on fire, and yelling seemed to help release some of the tension.

**I thought that went well.**

"Yeah, Karen, good call," Peter said to his A.I companion, who was the one that told him to kiss Michelle.

**She's special, isn't she? Like Liz was.**

Peter hadn't given Liz much thought recently. He felt like he could officially say he was over her. Around her, Peter would stumble over his words. But with Michelle, he felt like he could've talked all night. And she had been wearing his glasses! That was a big surprise. He remembered throwing them away after he found out he could see perfectly without them. Had he missed the trash can and she just happened to pick them up? Still, that had been the most surprising thing to him. It was also unexpected that she didn't immediately call out his identity. He figured Michelle would recognize him, because she was pretty smart despite what she made herself out to be. Maybe she did know, maybe she didn't. There was no better poker face than hers.

"Yeah, I think so," Peter agreed as he rounded the corner, remembering her fascinated face when he told his stories, or the way her eyes sparkled when he said he had lifted an entire building. He could have very well talked to her well into the night. He didn't realize how much he wanted her attention until then.  She truly had given him everything.

He came up to a street where the fire truck had stopped. A five story office building was completely consumed in fire, and people were causing a panic, crying out to workers stuck inside. The firemen were aiming a powerful hose at the building, trying to extinguish the flames. Others tried to break down the main door. Cops were surrounding the perimeter, forming a line to keep back the growing number of pedestrians.

"I'm going in. Scan the floors so I can pinpoint where everyone is," Peter told Karen. Not waiting for her response, he shot a web and slung himself across the street, diving through a flaming window. He thought he may have heard a someone call out to him in joy, but he wasn't sure.

Thanks to Mr.Stark's genius, Peter's mask filtered out filtered out most of the smoke, and his suit was fireproof. It was still hard to see, even with all the features of his mask. Karen couldn't even do much to help him except for pinpointing where people were, but he ended up stumbling blindly through the burning building.

He found three people within a few minutes, and carried them out of the window down to the waiting firemen. He went back and forth two more times, but saw that he wasn't even to the third floor yet. He needed to move faster, but he was only one guy. The building was losing stability, and he feared that he wouldn't get everybody out in time.

These thoughts coursed through his mind as he tried to lift a flaming wall off a trapped civilian, whose legs were stuck. The man cried out in pain, but Peter couldn't get a good grip on the wall, and the flames that struck out at him made him recoil. He was wasting time, but he couldn't just leave the man.

Suddenly, a large figure appeared beside him, fixing their hands bravely under the wall and lifting it up with ease. At first, Peter thought it was Mr.Stark coming to help him out in his Iron Man suit. He was quickly proved wrong by the lack of blinking lights and much more powerful frame, and mainly, the waving tail. Peter could only watch in a mixed reaction of both awe and confusion, recognizing the stranger to be his strange new nemesis, Werewolf, wearing black sport shorts with a blue streak down the side.

But he wasn't being very nemesis-y. In fact, he was being helpful. Werewolf heaved the wall back and pointed at him, gesturing for Peter to take the injured man. Wary of his new-found help, Peter did as he was told, taking the worker outside, where paramedics had begun to arrive. Peter remembered telling Happy about Werewolf, but he had just brushed him off. Why did the glorified bodyguard never believe him when it came to bad guys? Was it that he said he had fought a werewolf, or _lycan_ according to Ned. Either way, he wasn't sure Happy had told Mr.Stark.

When Peter came back, he could barely see Werewolf, but he did see a little group of people shuffling to the stairs. As the last person descended, the lycan materialized from within the smoke. His fur was no longer black, but a very pale gray. If he stood still, he would vanish into the smoke entirely, except for his eyes, which still shone a brilliant blue. Was that some kind of camouflage ability? And it was right then that Peter noticed that Werewolf's eyes were human, despite their off-putting glow.

"Here's the plan," Werewolf began, his voice hoarse and throaty from inhaling smoke, "you take the upper two floors. I'll take the third and ground floor."

"Wait, why?" Peter questioned. He didn't know why Werewolf was helping him. He had almost smashed his head in the other night!

"Because if I go any higher, I'll fall right through the floor!" was the lycan's exasperated reply, not answering the question Peter had meant.

"But why are you helping me?!" Peter clarified, but Werewolf didn't answer him as he escaped out the window. Peter could basically hear him trample around the upper floor.

Wasting no more time, the web-slinger used the stairs to go the top floors. People were already going to the stairs, being directed by some unseen force. Peter escorted them out and got to work getting the others. There weren't a lot of people on the upper floors, maybe only five or six. As he slung back to make one last check, the entire building trembled, the walls beginning to crack and tear apart. Half of the ceiling went down, and Peter tried to go for one of the windows, but they were being showered in embers as the roof collapsed on them. Using the stairs, he rushed down, the roof following him down the steps.

"Wolf!" Peter called, hoping the lycan would have enough sense to escape on his own. But as Peter fled down the stars, the building fell faster and faster. He suddenly had flashbacks to the last time he got crushed by a building. Sure, he had lifted it, but this one had the advantage of, you know, being on fire.

On the ground floor, he spied an open hole in the wall. Heart racing, he propelled himself toward it, stumbling over the fallen chunks of wall and brick. But everything was coming down, actually chasing him, as if trying to take him down too. Panicked, he shot a web from both hands and sling-shotted himself forward. But a ceiling part hit him just before the hole, knocking him down. Scrambling to his feet, he thought he would be crushed instantaneously. But there was a pause in the collapse. When he looked behind him, he saw Werewolf, standing tall with his muscular arms up, his paws splayed against the ceiling. He was trembling like crazy. He was literally holding up the building, but he was quickly loosing his grip as the heavy force pressed down on him.

"Go, kid!" Werewolf shouted to him, and Peter didn't need to be told twice. He leapt through the window but quickly turned around. He shot a web at Werewolf's back and pulled hard, yanking him through the hole and through some of the wall. They both hightailed it away as the building continued to come down, falling into a heap of rubble. Werewolf disappeared into the shadows and Peter climbed the nearest building. He swung a block away and finally stopped at a roof with a darkened garden. He caught his breath, shaking his head to rid his mind of the flaming images.

After a while, he heard a shuffling sound and sensed he wasn't alone. Whipping around, he held his arm up, ready to web up the newcomer. But it was just Werewolf, who was rummaging through a bush on the other side of the roof. Peter lowered his arm and slowly approached him. The lycan's fur was now jet black, and Peter deduced that his color must conform to his surroundings as to remain hidden. Werewolf looked up, blue eyes wide and glowing, when he saw the hero's approach. But when that he saw that it was just Peter, he returned to the bush and proceeded to pull out a very familiar-looking backpack. He rifled through it and took an iPod and white earbuds. He adjusted the band wrapped around his upper arm and slid the iPod inside the plastic pocket, putting the earbuds in his ears.

"Thanks, for helping back there," Peter started as Werewolf slung the backpack over his shoulders, "you didn't have to, you know, save me."

"You're right," Werewolf agreed affirmatively, "but thanks for saving me too."

"Why-why did you? Help me?" The web-slinger asked, quite intimidated by the lycan's imposing presence.

"While I may be a thief, Mr.Spider, I do have morals," Werewolf replied, his eyes knowing and thoughtful. He wasn't threatening for once, but Peter was still on edge as he continued, "you could never have done that entire building by yourself."

"Well, that's debatable," Peter said, slightly resenting the last remark, "but know that I do appreciate the help, Werewolf."

"Werewolf? Is that what you call me?" He asked with a quizzical smirk, "I'm a lycan, just so you know. Big difference."

"Whatever, just- thank you, for not trying to kill me this time around."

"I would never kill you," the _lycan_ said, bowing his head subtly, "I'm no hero, kid, make no mistake about that, but that doesn't make me heartless."

He said that last sentence like he was trying to make a point. Sure, Werewolf helped out once, but Peter shouldn't expect him to do that all the time. He was right. He definitely wasn't a hero.

"So I shouldn't ask what's in the bag, huh Van Helsing?" Peter asked, crossing his arms and smirking at his own reference. He did kind of resemble the werewolf from that movie. Werewolf tensed, then sighed aloud.

"There are some things that are better left unknown," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. He hit play on his iPod and jumped on the ledge, but turned to Peter once more.

"I kind of like that name. Werewolf. It's a got a nice ring to it," he said before leaping away, jumping from roof to roof as he disappeared into the night. Whatever he had in the backpack, Peter decided not to chase him. He thought he earned a reprieve, and Peter swung away toward home. He hoped the smell of smoke wouldn't tip Aunt May off too much.

But who was he kidding?


	14. Field Trip to Oscorp

The rest of the night wasn't fun for Peter. May was terrified for him when he came home reeking of smoke, because the fire was all over the news. But she was proud of him for single-handedly saving all the people in the building at least. Reports were hailing him a hero, and commending his bravery, comparing his feat to that of the Washington Memorial incident. But Peter noticed that Werewolf was never mentioned, and that people from the fire mentioned being herded out by some unknown figure, which they thought was Spider-Man. Through the smoke, they said it was hard to see.

Monday morning wasn't exactly a joyride either. Aunt May made him get up early for the bus so he wouldn't miss it, despite the last night's adventure. Ned noticed that he smelled like a bonfire, and told him about a sub shop that had been robbed last night. When they got to school, they didn't get out. A few more students got on and they were off again. Peter moved to the back with Ned, and saw that Michelle was there too, fixated on her book, wearing all dark clothes with a black jacket. She didn't even glance at Peter as the boys sat down across from her, and it almost looked like she was deliberately ignoring him.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked Ned, and his best friend raised an eyebrow.

"Did you really forget? We've been looking forward to this all year, Pete!" Ned asked, baffled that Peter had forgotten.

"He's been too busy being Stark's lackey," Michelle suddenly quipped, making both boys turn their heads. She glanced up at them, her gaze lingering on Peter before looking back down.

"Peter doesn't have the internship anymore," Ned said instinctively, and Peter mentally hit him over the head. He was just fine with no one knowing that, especially when it wasn't true anymore. He quickly looked around, but when he saw that Flash was in the front of the bus, he relaxed.

"Well, I'd say that royally sucks, Parker," Michelle said with a dismissive sigh, "if I cared anyway."

"Isn't Oscorp always looking for interns?" Ned asked, trying to keep up the rouse when he realized his mistake. Peter shook his head, thankful that his friend was helping him out.

"Nah, I'm not a scientist," Peter replied, glancing over at Michelle. Maybe she didn't know who he was after all.

"Says the guy who aced his chemistry test without studying," Ned said, rolling his eyes.

"What are we even doing at Oscorp?" Peter asked, changing the subject.

"We're just gonna get shown around some of the labs, and get introduced to the head scientist, Dr.Curt Connors!" Ned said excitedly. Peter started to get excited too at the thought of meeting one of the best scientists in New York.

"Wait, I read that guy's theory on rapid molecular regeneration! He's a genius!" Peter said, his excitement rising, "I wonder if he's any closer to getting that to work."

"You said that last time you were told where we were going," Michelle once again chimed in, this time not bothering to look up at them when they turned.

"Observant," she said, tapping her temple with an index finger.

"Anyway, it's gonna be awesome, dude," Ned continued, brushing Michelle's attitude off.

"Yeah, I can't believe I forgot," Peter said, looking out the window at the passing buildings.

But that reminded him of the conversation with Karen he had last night, and he suddenly grew very nervous.

**_Peter, I never told you what happened to the tracker I put on your lycan._ **

_"Oh sure, Karen, go ahead," Peter addressed her as he closed the door to his room and took off his suit, leaving his mask on._

**_Well, I tracked him all the way to the middle level of Oscorp tower before the signal went dead._ **

_"Oscorp? What would a werewolf do there?"_

**_He's a Lycan, and I don't know, Peter. The signal got cut off the second he entered the building, before I could even scan which floor he was on. It was weird._ **

_"Sounds like he knew he was being followed and didn't like that," Peter said, wishing everyone would stop correcting him on his misuse of the lycan/werewolf jargon._

**_I should have tagged him again. I apologize, and it is, as you say, 'my bad'._ **

_"It's okay, Karen. At least I have a clue now."_

Peter glanced over at Ned, wondering if he should tell Ned about seeing Werewolf the other night. He couldn't tell his best friend here, not on the bus anyway. Besides, he wasn't sure how Ned would react to knowing he'd temporarily teamed up with the guy that literally threw Peter off a building.

After about a forty-five minute drive, and a lot of morning traffic, the school bus finally arrived at the immense Oscorp tower. The sun's rays bounced off the many windows, and its height was only rivaled by the Avengers Tower.

Everyone started shuffling off the bus, Michelle making sure to get up before Peter. Was she avoiding him? Sure, she was always sort of closed off and/or anti-social, but she never actively avoided anyone. She more or less just hoped to be left alone.

When the students got off the bus, they were split into two groups. Peter and Ned made sure they were together, going with the group led by Mr.Osterfield, one of the AP science teachers. Thankfully, Flash was in the other, but Michelle somehow ended up in his. As they walked up the steps to the front door, she lagged at the back. She was really good at reading while walking, Peter noticed.

"This is so awesome!" Ned was saying excitedly as they went through door. Peter waited and held the door for Michelle, who didn't say anything as she walked by.

The lobby was extremely nice and very clean. The floor was white marble and everything seemed very high tech. The students went to the reception counter and got their visitor passes, and were given a guide who would take them on their tour.

"Where is Mr.Osborne currently?" Peter heard Mr.Osterfield ask, and the guide was slow to reply.

"He and Harry Osborne are abroad, but between you and me, they're set to return soon," the guide replied simply as they got on an escalator. Hearing Harry's name rang a very old, dusty bell in Peter's head. Harry Osborne had been his best friend growing up, next to Ned. But when Harry was suddenly pulled out of school just before the eighth grade, Peter never heard from him again. Had he really been out of the country all this time?

As they went up the escalator, which was unearthly long, Peter realized he was in the back of the group with Michelle, separated from Ned. She completely ignored his existence, too absorbed in her book to notice his presence.

"Hey Michelle," he started awkwardly, his voice coming out way more hoarse than he intended to. Where was the smooth-talking Spider-Man when he needed him?

"Parker," she said back, not looking up.

"Are you okay? You seem very standoffish," Peter observed, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

"And this... surprises you?" She asked, looking at him with a quizzical expression.

"Just, more than usual," he clarified, clearing his throat. He hated feeling this uncomfortable. The fact that she didn't seem to know him as Spider-Man, and the other fact that he had actually kissed this girl, was sticking to him like his own webs. She didn't seem affected by it at all. Why was that irking him so?

As she returned to her book, Peter decided to play a card that he knew was risky, but he needed to see how she'd react. "So, have you seen Spider-Man recently?"

Her gaze returned to him in an instant, her sparking hazel eyes narrowing at his inquiry. "Why do you ask?"

Peter swallowed nervously as they neared the top of the escalator, and stammered, "I was just wondering. He's asked me what your favorite color was the other day."

Her skeptical look never left her face. "He asked that?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know," Peter replied, noticing he wasn't keeping his continuity in line. Last time, as Spider-Man, he had said Peter was the one who talked about her, telling him where Michelle got hot chocolate. He was had messed slightly, but Michelle kept a poker face. Peter had just shot himself in the foot in the worst way, and he couldn't even tell if Michelle knew it.

"Hmmm, that's... interesting to hear. But to answer your question, no I haven't seen him," she said, and she seemed to watch him closely.

Peter tried his absolute hardest to not look surprised. He couldn't give himself away more than he already had. He was making a complete idiot of himself, and all he wanted to do now was escape.

When they reached the top of the escalator, he subtly dove within the little group of students, desperately seeking out Ned. When he found him, they were all filing into a big elevator that ran up through the center of the building giving everyone a view of each level they passed.

"I can't believe we're on an elevator after what happened last time," Ned commented, giving Peter a sharp look. No matter what Peter said, he couldn't seem to convince his best friend that he didn't know the chitauri power source would blow up until it was too late.

"Don't worry. That spider guy is always close by," Michelle replied from the corner, "because he was so _conveniently_ in D.C last time."

 _She knows something,_ Peter thought inwardly, both in the way she messed up his name and in the jeering way she said that last sentence.

After a few minutes of wondering why there was no elevator music like in the movies, the elevator stopped and the double doors slid open. The students got off and followed the guide through some glass doors into a huge lab. Every counter had some kind of robotic gadget on it, from hands to floating holograms of future projects. The guide explained that this was where most of the more expensive experiments took place, and she pointed to a huge incubator with a metal sheet littered with straps in the center.

"Do you do human testing in that thing?" Ned asked, staring at the glass box in awe.

"Oh no, but it is being prepped for the occasion for which it will be of use," the guide answered.

"What will it be used for?" Another student asked.

"I'm afraid that's classified," a new voice answered, and middle-aged man wearing a lab coat approached. Along with blond hair and glasses, Peter noticed that the scientist had only one arm.

"My name's Dr.Connors, and I see you are the Midtown school, yes?" Said the scientist, and Peter shared an excited look with Ned.

"Yes, we are," Mr.Osterfield replied, and the two men shook hands.

"Hopefully some of you will be working here someday," Dr.Connors said, smiling at the group of eager students, "Midtown always produces brilliant young minds."

"What are you working on today, Doctor?" The guide asked, and all the kids shuffled a step closer as Dr.Connors walked over to a large touch pad.

"DNA reconstruction mainly," he answered, and he pulled up the skeletal structure of a human, "and how to rebuild the body faster and more healthy."

"Like rapid molecular regeneration?" Peter called out loud, catching the doctor's eye, "I read you article." Dr.Connors nodded in approval.

"Exactly right," he said, "but we have yet to make headway. But I feel we're on the edge of a breakthrough."

He then looked to the side, calling "Mr.Russell!" Almost instantly, a young man with dirty blond hair and slightly scruffy cheeks appeared, carrying vials of eerily-colored liquid in a tray. He wore white earbuds and a lab coat similar to the doctor's, paying no attention to the mass of visitors as he set the tray down on the counter.

"This is Jack Russell, my assistant here at Oscorp," Dr.Connors introduced, and the newcomer took his earbuds out when he saw that there was company. He did an awkward wave to the students.

"He is an intern here, just like some of you will be," Dr.Connors said, wrapping his arm around his assistant's shoulders. Jack really looked like he wanted to leave, until he locked his blue eyes on someone in the group.

At first, Peter thought he was looking at him. Once he realized he wasn't, Peter looked behind him to see that Michelle was staring at something ahead of her, recognition in her eyes. Doing a double-take, he put together that the intern and Michelle were staring at each other.

Did Michelle... know this guy? From where? Peter had never seen this stranger before, and was surprised that Michelle seemed to know anyone outside the school. And most importantly, why did Peter feel weird about her looking at him?


	15. What's In A Name?

***MJ's pov***

She knew him immediately. The guy from the bus stop she had met days ago. When Michelle had heard the scientist call his name, she didn't think anything of it. She didn't know anyone with the last name of Russell, so it came as shock to her when she finally looked up. The weird thing was he saw her first, even though she was standing behind Peter. Peter wasn't that tall though, so she wasn't exactly surprised that Jack had picked her out from the crowd. He gave her the smallest smile, followed by a subtle nod of his head. Realizing that her eyes were far wider than she meant, she looked down, heat rushing to her cheeks. What's worse was that Peter seemed to notice.

As Dr.Connors led the students around the lab, he showed them all the instruments that the scientists used. Jack didn't follow him, instead wandering around the lab and looking at charts. Every so often, he would look in her direction. Peter was doing that too, exchanging looks between Jack and Michelle. He seemed to know something was up, and he did a terrible job hiding it.

Peter was being inexplicably careless today. He was being awkward and clumsy, not at all like he was last night. He also smelled faintly of smoke, which made her realize that he must have been in the fire that had happened after their meet up. But it was cute that he wanted to get her attention, even if he looked completely idiotic when he tried. Especially now. He seemed far too skittish for her liking. She swore if he looked back at her one more time she'd end up hitting him.

But there was a yellowed area around his left eye, and she wondered if someone had literally beaten her to the punch. Half his face was sickly yellow color, like the color a bruise turns after a few days. Had he been beaten up recently?

"And this is where we run diagnostics for DNA replicates," Dr.Connors was saying, walking up to a huge glass tube with a hologram of a double helix floating in it.

"Replicates for what?" Flash asked.

"Well, if we were learn how to clone certain parts of the DNA strand, we would be able to discover how to rebuild it so as to heal faster, maybe even multiply it," the scientist replied, tapping a screen. The DNA strand then fell apart, only to quickly resemble itself into multiple smaller versions of itself. The students stared in awe, and as everyone moved closer to observe, Michelle felt a presence next to her.

"Pretty neat, huh?" Jack asked, and it was hard not to flinch. She wasn't used to being snuck up on, and thought to herself, _so that's what that feels like._

"Yeah, so cool, Mr.Russell," she mumbled sarcastically, trying to sound dismissive. She almost laughed at the fact that his name was actually "Jack Russell", but what's in a name? He might not even like dogs. But for the sake of appearance, she brushed him off, hiding her own amusement. That hadn't worked the last time she tried to get him to go away, and it sure didn't now. "Aren't you an intern? Don't you have school today?

"Uh, I, uh, had the day off," Jack stuttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, probably too busy chasing speeding buses, right?" Michelle quipped, not believing his haphazard excuse.

He gave her a quizzical look before frowning to him, quirking his mouth. She had thought back then that he could've been Spider-Man, but that thought was dashed when Peter turned out to be her web-slinging friend. But there was someone else there that day that he could still be...

"Look, I'm not gonna lie to you, because I can tell you're smart," he said with a shrug, "but I'm not gonna tell you either."

"Oh yes, most definitely not," she said, rolling her eyes. She didn't care about this guy, or his little half-hidden secrets. But still, some part of this mystery intrigued her.

If he did happen to be the elusive wolf creature that had helped her out so long ago, there was only one way to tell. All she needed was eye contact, because up until then, she had never really looked at him head on.

"So what exactly do you do here?" Michelle asked, a dozen students raising their hands to answer a question that Dr.Connors had asked.

"Like I said before, it's all very secretive, but between you and me, I'm pretty important," he replied with a cocky smirk, looking over at her.

"Yeah, whatever you say pal," she said, almost laughing to herself as she tapped the badge that was pinned to his coat pocket that said Junior Assistant. But she took that minute in time to quickly scan his eyes. They shone a brilliant clear blue, intensified by the blue plaid shirt he wore under his lab coat.

_Sometimes you see the same eyes in different people._

The group had begun to move on, and Jack broke away again without another word. She didn't know why he wanted to talk to her. They barely knew each other. But those eyes were familiar, even if she did see them on a werewolf long before. Michelle tried to tell herself that blue eyes like his were common, but she couldn't shake the memory of the unique look of sympathy the werewolf had given her after he'd rescued her. Jack seemed to share that same thoughtful light in his eyes.

 _Get over yourself MJ,_ Michelle told herself, realizing how crazy she must sound. Jack was a random passerby and nothing more. Not a werewolf, not anyone. Not even Spider-Man. He was just a guy.

As they walked into another lab, she saw that Peter had materialized beside her. He no longer carried that nervous air, but he seemed determined, almost confident. Almost the way a lion looks when he's being challenged.

"Who was that guy, Michelle?" Peter asked, his voice slightly demanding. It clicked for her in an instant.

Peter was jealous.

"No one, Parker," she assured him. He looked like an upset puppy that just had its toy taken away. "Just someone I met awhile back."

He frowned at her answer, but moved away anyway. The boy was fuming with silent irritation, aiming visual daggers at Jack, who wandered around the lab doing scientist things. It was completely adorable, him acting all defensive. Michelle had a suspicion that he liked her, but she thought she was just a rebound from Liz, but she always shook off the thought. Peter could never like her. But he would never go out of his way to question Liz's guy friends before, like he'd just done with Michelle. She smiled to herself, liking the thought of Peter having a crush on her.

"I see you, Parker," she hummed to herself, in a voice low enough for no one to hear, "I see you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't WAIT to see jealous!Peter in Far From Home


	16. Stark Checking In

Peter felt uncomfortable the rest of the trip. He didn't like that Michelle had a guy friend he didn't know about. He had seen them talking during Dr.Connors' presentation, and it took a great effort to not show how much his blood was boiling. When he had addressed her about the stranger, she had brushed him off. Peter had tried to focus on what Dr.Connors was saying as he led them around the laboratories, but he realized he was more or less looking at the ever-changing holograms than actually listening to the words. He glared at the stranger, wondering how he knew Michelle. It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did.

The scientist then activated a system, catching Peter's attention, and he watched as a picture of a three-legged mouse appeared, and Dr.Connors inserted an algorithm, and the mouse's arm grew back instantaneously, much to the students' awe. But the arm was morphed and overgrown, and the mouse flopped on its side, and a voice said that patient was deceased. The scientist went on to explain that Oscorp was in the process of developing a tangible formula to put in a solution mixed the DNA of lizards.

"Why lizards?" A student asked.

"Can anybody answer her?" Dr.Connors asked the group, and Ned raised his hand.

When the scientist pointed to him, Ned explained, "because there are some lizards that are capable of limb regeneration, able to regrow their tails and legs."

"Correct," Dr.Connors said, replaying the hologram of the mouse, "as you can see, this why I chose this form of science."

"Can I try something, sir?" Peter asked, taking an interest in the project. He seems to know why the mouse kept dying, and when the scientist nodded, Peter went up to him. The young hero tapped on the chart and inserted a varied algorithm. The students watched him in awe as the mouse stood back up, regrowing a perfectly usable leg. The electric voice rang out again, saying the patient was healthy.

The students clapped at Peter's feat, and Dr.Connors stared at him in awe. He nodded his head in approval, clearly impressed with Peter's work.

"What's your name, son?" The scientist asked.

"Peter Parker, sir," was the simply reply.

"Well, Mr.Parker, you must come by again. I feel like you just helped in making a breakthrough," Dr.Connors said, laying a hand on Peter's shoulder.

After that, the scientist then lead them to another room. After another hour and duteous note-taking, the students left the lab and descended the elevator once again. Everyone was chatting eagerly, talking about all they had seen as they went down the escalator. Ned was saying things Peter wasn't paying attention to. The whole bus ride, he barely said a thing, until he got a phone call from Tony Stark.

He froze, staring blankly at the caller ID. What did Mr.Stark want now? School wasn't even over yet! That must mean it was urgent. Maybe he was finally getting the call for another mission?

He hastily told Ned to shut up, and Peter took a steadying breath before putting the phone to his ear. "Hey Mr.Stark! What's up?"

"Peter, what the hell has been happening over there?" Tony asked, sounding slightly irritated.

"What-What do you mean?" Peter stuttered. Had Happy told Tony after all?

"First, Happy tells me some story about how you said that you fought a wolfman. Then, I see on the news that Bruce Banner has been parading around New York smashing buses," Tony explained, and Peter felt himself growing redder and redder, "to top it off, I had Friday get me footage from your suit via your A.I., only to see you were right."

 _Thanks Karen,_ Peter thought internally.

"Is this too much for you, kid? Do I need to come back?" Tony asked worriedly, this time sounding more concerned.

"No! No, I can handle it. It's no big deal. The werewolf's not that bad," Peter said, wondering where Tony might be.

"Yeah, I saw the footage from the fire. Don't trust a guy that plays both ends, kid. That only makes him more dangerous," Tony warned,and Peter heard him sigh through the phone, "and try not to get your ass kicked like last time."

"For the record, I was exhausted that night-."

"If you're gonna fight him, call me. I'll send a suit to help out, for deli stores everywhere," Tony interrupted, and Peter thought he laughed to himself.

"Where are you, Mr.Stark?" Peter asked curiously, and he looked over to see that Ned was staring at him in utter glee.

"Bali. You should think about coming over some time. It's spectacular this time of year," Peter's mentor answered. Sometimes Peter wondered if Mr.Stark remembered that he was still in high school. He didn't seem to care when he shipped Peter to Germany to fight for something he still to this day didn't completely understand.

"Okay, Mr.Stark. But I promise, everything is fine. I've got it covered," Peter assured him, hoping that Tony would believe him.

"If you're sure. Tell May I said hi," and without another word, Tony hung up. Peter put his phone down and saw Ned still gaping at him.

"Was that... Iron Man?" Ned asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, but it was nothing. Just checking up on me," Peter replied, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Oooh, continuity alert," Michelle's voice cut in, her tone sarcastic and teasing. The boys looked over to see her leaned forward in her seat, watching them intensely, "You do realize other people have the ability to hear, right?"

"Why you gotta eavesdrop?" Ned asked, and Michelle laughed mockingly.

"It's not eavesdropping if I don't have to try," she answered, and she looked at Peter expectantly, raising an eyebrow whilst smirking.

"Uh, it's hard to explain," Peter replied, not knowing exactly _how_ he would explain.

The bus came to a stop, and a sly smile crossed Michelle's lips, making Peter very nervous. It wasn't a nice, heartwarming smile. This was a telling one, one that seemed to know everything about him.

As the students began to get off, Ned completely abandoned him, scurrying off the bus like a frightened squirrel. Peter was waiting for Michelle to move, since she seemed to be running away from him all day. But she didn't run this time. In fact, she got up right when he did, and they faced each other in the narrow aisle.

"Nothing's too hard to explain," she told him, giving him an aloof look, "but then again, you come up with excuses all the time, right Webs?"

He was left in stunned silence as she briskly walked away, leaving the bus with the last few students. But Peter stood there for so long that the bus driver actually yelled at him to get off. He moved like his whole body was numb, stepping onto the sidewalk in a daze.

 _She knows_ , was all his internal monologue would echo through his head _._

Michelle knew and, to be honest, he shouldn't have been surprised.


	17. Full Moon Memories

Peter swung wildly through the city, his body not able to keep up with his racing mind. Now that Michelle knew, he didn't know how he would go about addressing it to her. Would she keep it to herself? Michelle wasn't the kind to go around spreading news. Ned was more prone to that than her.

But she had been teasing him! She knew who he was and dangled the truth right in front of him. While as harmless as it was, it still bothered him. He couldn't get her knowing smirk out of his mind. She was haunting him, in a way that he couldn't stop thinking about her. How could he like someone as sardonically cynical as Michelle Jones?

Around seven, he found himself at the doorstep of her townhouse. He had spent a couple of hours patrolling the city, making sure to keep an eye on the Oscorp building in case his lycan friend decided to make an appearance. But whether he knew it or not, he ended up in front of the Jones' residence, in the exact spot where he had been gasping for breath a few days before.

He didn't even know what he was doing there. It's not like he was going to walk up and knock. Shaking his head, he ran and quickly scaled her building, careful to avoid windows, and sat on the edge of her brick roof. He took off his mask, running his hand through his messy brown hair as he contemplated what he was going to do. Oddly, the memory of his earlier conversation with Karen surfaced to the top of his mind.

_"Hey Karen, could you find someone for me?" Peter asked her as he landed on the top of Empire State Building, waving at some of the people who were visiting the balcony._

**_Sure Peter, who?_ **

_"Search Jack Russell," Peter said. He didn't know why he felt compelled to do a background check on someone Michelle had talked to for less than a minute, but something about that guy had rubbed him the wrong way._

**It's a dog breed.**

_"No Karen, a person. Jack Russell's a person," Peter clarified, shaking his head._

**_I'm kidding._ ** **_I've got one match._ **

_"Pull up a picture."_

_Karen did so, and a picture taken by a security camera popped up in front of Peter. The camera seemed to be placed on an intersection, and Peter's person-of-interest was standing in the sidewalk, waiting to cross. Karen zoomed in and enhanced his face._

**_This was a taken_ ** **_three_ ** **_week_ ** **_s_ ** **_ago._ ** **_He doesn't have a license._ **

_"That's definitely him," Peter said, recognizing Michelle's friend, "anything more recent?"_

**_Hold on. This was taken a few days ago._ **

_Another picture popped up, this time the image was blurred due to the guy running at the edge of the frame. Karen froze it and enhanced the face, and Peter saw that it was the same guy. He checked the date. It had taken place Friday afternoon, at the exact time the bus crash happened. Peter told Karen to keep the video going, and suddenly the guy disappeared from the frame. The bus careened into view, and a huge figure jumped into the middle of the intersection, stopping the bus with its entire body. It really had looked like the Hulk._

**_His real name is Jacob Russoff_ ** **_, but legally_ ** **_changed his name to Jack Russell two years ago after the death of his father, but that's where his record stops. Apparently he went on a hunting expedition in the Rockies, then never came back. There's a missing persons report. And hey, he's a natural redhead._ **

_"What's he doing at Oscorp?" Peter asked, ignoring Karen's last statement as he leapt off the building, skydiving toward the street below._

**_I just checked their employee roster. There's no record of him working there._ **

_"What? That's doesn't make sense," Peter shot a web and swooped between a line of traffic, some pedestrians calling out to him._

**_None of it does Peter. He's supposed to be dead._ **

And a redhead apparently, _Peter thought, thinking of Karen's useless fact. Did Russell really dye that all the time? Red was hard to hide._

A sound went off below him, resembling that of a door closing. But it was enough to knock Peter out of his flashback. Peter looked to his right, seeing that the roof had a skylight. Being as stealthy as possible, he crawled over to it and looked down.

The skylight was a direct portal into Michelle's room. He could see most of everything. There was a desk against the wall, a double bed in the corner, and a furry moon chair between a huge shelf full of books and a large glass door. There were pictures of drawings pinned to the walls and scattered carelessly across her desk. Peter noticed that almost everything was gray, from the walls to her bed sheets. She must really like that color to have it all over her room.

_Her favorite color._

She must have just come upstairs, for she took a book from the shelf and plopped down on the moon chair, throwing a blanket over her lap. She was directly beneath him, and he thought about trying to get her attention.

Frowning at the thought, he shot a web and slung into a nearby tree while gripping his mask, the tree being right across from her room. She had a balcony with a double door glass window, with a single chair on the deck. Keeping hidden within the shadowy branches of the tree, he watched Michelle as she read. Her hair was down, her natural curls falling along her face. He smiled, a very small side smile, at her reading face, so full of attentiveness and focus. He would've been perfectly content just watching her all night.

But Fate never gave him that kind of luck, for his phone suddenly rang really loud. He scrambled to take his phone out and almost dropped it in his panic. Peter saw that it was May that was calling him. Probably to make sure he was okay. He cancelled the call and shot a quick text her way, saying he was alright and would be home soon. He also made a mental note to get a quieter ringtone.

He looked back at Michelle's room. She was standing up, looking out the window. She opened the door and stepped out. He shrunk back in his tree, hoping to remain out of sight. But she was on to him, all while wearing adorable pink checkered pajama pants and a black sweatshirt.

"I know you're there, Parker," Michelle called in a grumpy voice, "Come out, come out wherever you are, ya little shit."

Knowing he couldn't stay hidden any longer, he went to the end of the branch, letting the light of the full moon wash over him. Michelle looked at him and raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You know, there are better ways to hang out," she said with a frown, "You could actually let me know first, for one."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off so... creepy," Peter apologized, the branch bending under his weight, "I just wanted to talk to you, but I didn't know how to start."

"Yes, so sit in a tree until your phone forces you into the light," Michelle said sarcastically, "Sounds like a great icebreaker."

Peter smirked at her comment before leaping onto the wall next to her balcony. He hung off the side, and she looked at him with wide brown eyes.

"Still weird that you can do that," she said, turning her back to go into her room.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" He asked, jumping onto her balcony and following her.

"God, Parker who would I even tell?" She questioned, turning around to face him, stopping him in his tracks, "it's not like I have anyone to talk to. Even if I did, I still wouldn't."

"Well, you have me, don't you?" Peter asked, tipping his head.

"Yes, so I can tell you... about you," she frowned, rolling her eyes.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know, dork," she said, punching him lightly in the shoulder, "but you're right. Having you makes me lucky, I guess."

"Lucky?" Petered echoed, and Michelle gave him a small smile.

"If anyone knew the Peter Parker I knew, they'd think they're lucky too," she replied.

"Are you saying that just because I'm Spider-Man?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"No, I'm talking about the guy who's obsessed with Lego figures, that loves science puns. The guy that puts himself through high school while managing a whole city," Michelle explained.

Peter stared at her, mystified.

"Spider-Man's cool and all, but I prefer Peter Parker," she said, giving him another meaningful smile.

He didn't know what to say. He was completely speechless. Of all things he expected her to say, none of that even crossed his mind.

"Well thank you," Peter said, not sure how to respond. She'd never complimented him before, so he didn't know quite how to react.But since he got the confirmation he was looking for, he turned to the door to leave.

"You can hang out if you want," Michelle then offered, surprising him, "I've never had anyone over."

"But won't your parents think that's weird?" Peter asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

"Nah, my dad's working late and my mom's out of town," she replied, walking over to her moon chair and sitting down, "but my sister gets home in an hour so you can leave then."

And so Peter stayed, and he was infinitely glad he did. It was just like the library all over again, slipping back into their easy conversation. Michelle seemed to be enjoying herself too, and Peter noticed that she asked no Spider-Man-related questions, except for how he got his powers. But they mostly talked about each other, like how Michelle wanted to be a photographer. They made each other laugh, and every shred of anxiety he felt toward her evaporated. In that one moment, everything was fine. No interruptions, no distractions. Just a conversation between two friends.

But like always, Fate was brewing up a potion of bad luck, one that contained metal fangs and red eyes.


	18. Shock Value

***Werewolf's pov***

Jack was stuck in his wolf form that night, and he was recovering from his day of students wandering the lab. It had been a pleasant surprise seeing Michelle again. He had remembered her name the second he saw her. While he wasn't attracted to her romantically, he did find her extremely interesting. She constantly played hard to get, even when no one was chasing her.

Well, he didn't know that. There was that one kid who kept glaring at him after he talked to her. Was that her boyfriend or something? Jack swore he never saw someone look so irritated before.

Jack stayed in his room at Oscorp, where he usually holed himself up during a full moon. Full moons made him go feral and he would lose himself, his eyes taking on a reddened glow that made him look like a demon wolf. But he hadn't started to succumb yet, so he figured he had about a few minutes before he lost it completely, when the moon was at its zenith.

"Russell! Come here!" Jack heard Dr.Connors call. The scientist had been working late again, busy building some huge contraption Jack wasn't allowed to see, but apparently it was sent from Norman Osborne, the founder of Oscorp Incorporated.

Jack did as he was told and opened the door, unable to change back into a human due to the full moon. Once the sun set on the night of a full moon, Jack was stuck in his wolf form until sunrise. He stomped into the lab and saw a new chair in the glass incubator, a big bulky thing with arm locks and dark-colored metal parts coming off it with a huge machine on the back. It looked like something that was built to hold something down. 

Dr.Connors was using a screwdriver to lengthen the seat, and when he noticed Jack's approach, he stood up quickly. He smiled proudly at his work, since it had taken him hours to assemble.

"What do you think?" Dr.Connors asked, patting the chair as Jack entered the huge incubator.

"What is IKEA making nowadays?" Jack joked, making himself laugh as he inspected the chair and its many parts, "what does it do?"

"I'm not sure," Connors relied, looking at it and scratching his chin, "but I want you to try it while I give it a whirl."

"You want me on this thing when you activate it?" Jack demanded, flattening his ears, not liking the idea at all.

"I just want to know what it does," the scientist pointed out, "even if it goes wrong, you won't get hurt, right?"

"But you couldn't have picked a worse time," Jack countered, crossing his arms and thrashing his tail, "I'm going feral tonight."

"And I know this, but it won't take more than a few minutes," Connors said, gesturing to the chair, "just have a seat."

Jack didn't feel entirely comfortable with the idea. But he knew Connors would never put him in any direct danger, or himself for that matter. With a sigh, Jack grudgingly sat down, laying back against the chair, which was a little snug for him. Connors ran out of the incubator and the door slid closed. Jack instantly felt nervous as the chair started to whir, the machine working up to power. The locks came down and pinned his arms to the rests. A headset then appeared above him, and it fastened itself to each side of his face. Jack's heart rate escalated, and a voice inside him was telling him that something very wrong.

Then, the machine stilled, and the speaker inside the incubator came to life as Dr.Connors began to speak.

"I know you must be confused, so allow me to clear things up. Mr.Osborne thinks you're being far too noble with your actions, especially when it comes to befriending superheroes."

"What the hell, Connors," Jack swore, his blood beginning to boil as he felt his mind begin to slip into an animalistic state, his muscles beginning to twitch and his tail thrashing.

"You see, while he thinks that you're a powerful asset, you're also a liability. With that, he wishes to make you more... focused on the problem."

"Connors!" Jack roared, his arms beginning to shake with rage as his vision went red, and he felt the chair begin to whir again.

"No more dancing the line, Mr.Russell," Dr.Connors said over the speaker, "you're no hero, and it's time you remembered that."

Suddenly, electricity shot from the headset, pulsating into Jack's brain. Jack bellowed in pain, every muscle tensing madly as electricity coursed through his body. Combined with his full moon fury, Jack was completely losing his mind. He watched with open eyes as his vision went from red to white, his cries unable to stop the vacuum that was sucking his very thoughts away.

The torture seemed to go on forever, until the machine stopped. Everything was blank, and Jack was left as a seething mass, his rage evaporating. He was now still and compliant. The arm locks were released and the incubator door was opened. Dr.Connors came in as Jack stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. The scientist was carrying something in his hand, and when he ordered Jack to lower his head, the lycan did so with numb eyes, eyes that were still glowing red. But they carried no fire, no anger.

Dr.Connors fastened something around Jack's head, almost like a sheet of black sandpaper in between his ears with wires in it, metal receptors pressing firmly against his temple.

As Connors strapped it into place, everything began to come back. What was happening? Connors had betrayed him! He had attempted to brainwash him!

_Jolt!_

Everything went blank again, and the lycan was once again empty in the head. Connors laughed in amusement, stepping back to admire his good work. A wave of electricity had been plunged into Jack's brain, wiping his mind once again. As Jack stood there, tail waving and face placid, he listened obediently as Dr.Connors began to speak.

"That little machine is neat, isn't it? It's been used many times before for the same reason. Your memory will begin to heal after a few minutes or so, due to your fantastic regeneration, but that headgear will hit you before you can realize it. It's very convenient that you're feral tonight. Much easier to wipe a mind that's already lost," the scientist explained, and Jack pricked his ears forward as he stared ahead, "but in better news, I've finally done it, Mr. Russell. I've made a serum to accomplish my goal. But, there's been a hiccup."

_I kind of like that name. Werewolf._

_Jolt!_

Just as his shattered mind was pulling itself together, Jack was wiped again, his entire body tensing from the energy coursing through him. Dr.Connors turned to him, giving him a hard, determined look.

"The chairman came by today and shut me down. You might remember Mr.Ratha. Then again, maybe not," the scientist explained, quietly chuckling to himself.

"Anyway, he took my prototype serum and is on his way to a veterans hospital to disperse it. I need you to make sure he never gets there. If you must kill him, do so, just get him out of the way and get the serum while you're at it," Dr.Connors ordered the blank-faced lycan, "are you ready to obey that?"

Jack didn't reply immediately, but when he did, his voice came out dull and monotone, the voice of a soulless being without a conscience.

"Ready to comply."


	19. Call Me MJ

"Really? Animal Farm? That's one of your favorites?" Peter asked Michelle as they tossed a small colored ball back and forth. She was sitting on her bed and he was in the moon chair. They were discussing their favorite books, and Michelle proved to be far more well-read than Peter, which didn't surprise either of them.

"What? It's a classic!" Michelle pointed out with a laugh, tossing the ball back to him, "oh, that and The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Phenomenal ending."

"Never even heard of it," Peter said as he caught the ball.

"I'm not even surprised."

They tossed the ball a few more times. They had been talking for a solid two hours, and it was now nine o'clock. May was probably worrying about him, but that wasn't enough to compel him to leave. But they both perked up at the sound of a car door slamming. Peter figured that must be Michelle's sister, finally home from working as a janitor at the library.

"Well, I think that's my cue," Peter said, standing up. Michelle joined him as he went to the double glass doors and jumped up on the wooden railing of her balcony.

"We should hang out more often," Peter suggested, turning to look at Michelle with his mask in hand, "you never even heard what my favorite video game is."

"Please, we both know you love Skyrim and Bioshock," she retorted with flip of her hair. He raised an eyebrow, ready to ask how she knew that, but she swept on, "I _do_ sit at the same table as you and Ned. Sometimes I listen to your conversations. And I think you said something about how Uncharted will always be your all-time favorite series."

"It has the best of everything!" Peter pointed out, wondering who wouldn't want to be the dashing Uncharted protagonist, Nathan Drake.

"I know, Parker. I'm very well aware," she sighed, smiling up at him.

They stared at each other for what felt like a long time. Her eyes were quite mesmerizing, so full of intelligence and honesty. The silence between them wasn't even awkward, for the moment didn't need words to describe the feelings that Peter was experiencing.

Then, Peter thought of Liz, but not in the way you'd think. He thought about how Liz had never kept Peter on his toes, never hit him with brutal honesty when he needed it, never brought down his ego when it might be a little too high, if it ever was. She wasn't as good a listener, since she spent most of her time looking at her phone, even on the way to Homecoming. He had never sought out her attention, for he was very comfortable with admiring from afar.

But with Michelle, he wanted to impress her. He wanted to get her to notice him, even if he was just watching from a tree. Spider-Man had turned her head, but in the end, it was Peter Parker who had truly acquired the gift of her attention.

"But I agree, we should hang out more," she then said, looking down at her bare feet, "you're not bad company."

Peter smirked, exhaling sharply through his nose in a soft laugh, nodding his head. "I guess I could say the same. Besides, I think I have an idea about what your favorite color is."

She gave him an amused look. "Then come back when you're sure."

She turned, sliding the glass door to walk back into her room. Peter would've just let her go, but then he heard Karen in his head, and what she might say to him. The A.I. had been right last time, but Peter didn't need her to tell him what to do next.

Choosing his thinnest web setting, he quickly shot a web at Michelle's back. He yanked ever so gently, taking into account his own strength, and she was pulled back to him, spinning around. He caught her in his arms, easily maintaining his equilibrium on the rail. She looked up at him, and she wore an expression of both surprise and irritation. But before she could say a word, he pressed his lips to hers.

Okay, so he really didn't know how she was going to react. He honestly didn't really have a plan going in either. Maybe she'd hit him, cuss him out, call him an idiot, etc, etc. But what he didn't expect was for her to kiss back, their lips fitting together like puzzle pieces, their eyes closing as they both sank into it. Sure, she hesitated at first, but his heart fluttered when he felt her smile against his lips before pushing back. It was slow and passionate, and Peter could truly say that he had never felt so alive than in that moment. From the full moon shining down on them to the distant noises of traffic, nothing could have been a better setting.

They parted for breath, their foreheads pressed together, and Michelle whispered quietly, "did you get on the railing just so you would be taller than me?"

"It doesn't hurt," was all Peter replied before kissing her again. God, nothing felt better than kissing Michelle. Well, maybe when she reached up to cup his face. That felt great too.

When they parted once again, Peter breathed, "your favorite color's gray, Michelle."

At first, she didn't reply. She just smiled up at him in what seemed like shining wonder, and Peter couldn't think of the last time she looked so... happy.

"Call me MJ," she said, tapping Peter's cheek with her finger. They kissed one more time before they both heard the door to her townhouse open, and someone calling her name.

She let go of him, stepping back while saying, "You better get swinging, Webs. I don't want to have to explain this to my sister."

Peter laughed, and he quickly pulled his mask on over his head, replying, "Yeah, I can just feel the awkward."

They exchanged a swift goodbye before Peter swung away. Despite the roaring emotions in his heart, he would wait to yell until he was in the city. He would hate for MJ's sister to hear and be tipped off. MJ wouldn't thank him for that.

**I assume everything went okay?**

"Oh Karen, everything went just great," Peter replied as he ran along the rooftops, smiling like an idiot.

**While I'm happy for you, there's something happening on the Brooklyn Bridge.**

Peter didn't even ask for specifics. He turned in the direction of the bridge and started swinging his way there. No matter what he found, nothing could dampen his spirit. He was so happy that he felt almost invincible. He could take on whatever trouble there was.

Nothing could kill his vibe.


	20. Bridge Brawl

Peter swung on top of the Brooklyn Bridge, looking down to assess the situation. There was a very large, powerfully-built figure marching through the street, pushing aside cars like they weighed nothing and sometimes tearing them apart, ripping off their doors. People were screaming and running away, abandoning their cars to get away from the monster.

But Peter was stunned. That was Werewolf! But what was he doing? The lycan was usually very adamant about remaining unseen, but here he was, taking a nightly stroll along Brooklyn Bridge.

Suddenly, he stopped at a black limbo, and after a short inspection, began rocking it back and forth. He tore off the door and reached inside. Not waiting to see what would happen next, Peter shot a web and swung down toward Werewolf.

"Yeeehoooo!" Peter whooped, causing Werewolf to look up. At swooping speed, Peter careened straight into the lycan, planting both feet against Werewolf's chest. He was sent back, flying backward into the windshield of a taxi.

But Werewolf's eyes threw Peter off. Why were they red? There were usually a brilliant, glowing blue.

When he got off the cab, he actually picked up the entire car and threw it at Peter. Peter jumped away, and the taxi flew over the side of the bridge. The web-slinger webbed its bumper and attached it to the rail, and the car hung like a caught fish off the bridge.

"Didn't Papa Wolf teach you that throwing cars is rude?" Peter joked, looking down at the hanging car.

When Peter turned back, Werewolf was once again tearing into the limbo, roaring fiercely. A man inside was screaming for help, and Peter webbed up one of the lycan's fists, yanking him away from the vehicle. But Werewolf was ready for him, remaining solid as he threw his arm back, causing Peter to fly forward. In a swift movement, Werewolf stuck his arm out and clotheslined the young hero, who fell to the ground with a grunt.

"So much for remaining unseen, amiright?" Peter groaned, the wind knocked out of him by the blow.

As the lycan glared down at him with his beady red eyes, his lips pulled back in a snarl, Peter spied a weird object attached to Werewolf's head. Werewolf raised a fist to punch Peter into the ground, but he shot a web from each arm and ejected out of the way, the lycan punching the bare cement, creating a hole in the road.

"Werewolf, what's up with you, man?" Peter asked as Werewolf stalked closer, his ears flat, "like, I know you said you weren't a hero, but this is kinda hitting the point a little hard, isn't it?"

Suddenly, Werewolf paused mid-step, and his entire body seemed to tremble. His red eyes went wide as his fur bristled. A blue spark flashed from the top of his head, and suddenly he was back to being the big bad wolf from before.

"Hey, what's that thing on your head?" Peter questioned, leaping away as Werewolf flipped the car he'd been crouched on, "I didn't peg you as the hat-wearing type of wolf."

Werewolf kept throwing cars at Peter, hoisting them up by their bumpers and tossing them like rocks. Each one would go over the side, and each time Peter had to catch it, attaching them with webs to hold them to the rail. Most of them were empty, accept one. There was a kid inside with her parent. The adult was panicking on the phone while the young girl watched the scene unfold with a look of wonder. As Werewolf threw another car, it looked like it was headed right for them. Peter leapt on top of the vehicle and kicked off, redirecting the catapulted car toward Werewolf instead, who backhanded it out of the way.

"Gone fishin'," Peter hummed as he looked down at all the hanging cars that dangled over the bridge. When Peter looked back, he saw that Werewolf was now dragging the limbo to the ledge, kicking down the railing and tearing a huge chunk off to make an opening. In his claws, he carried a small, compact metal case.

Werewolf turned, locking eyes with Peter. Once again, a blue spark zapped through the thin helmet he wore, making his muscles convulse. Shaking his head, he proceeded with a roar of effort to roll the limbo right over the edge of the bridge.

Peter dove after the car, webbing its bumper and shooting another web up at the rail.

**Peter, your left webshooter is dangerously low. Your right hasn't got much left either.**

Thinking fast, Peter summoned all his strength to lift the car. He webbed the two strings together, and dropped down on the limbo, making it sway.

Peter looked into the ripped apart vehicle and saw a man inside, unconscious on the side of the car. The car creaked as Peter crawled down and retrieved him, and he shot his last web to return to the bridge.

Laying the man down on the side of the road, Peter quickly restocked his webshooters while looking around. Werewolf had gone, but he had an idea about where he may be headed. The silver case he had been holding seemed important, and Peter knew where he had to go to investigate.

After double checking to make sure all the hanging cars were empty and reinforcing their webbing, he swung away from the bridge, seeing that helicopter was approaching along with an army of cop cars that were weaving among the abandoned vehicles. He was determined to hunt Werewolf down. If he _was_ anything like before, then he'd still move stealthily by sticking to the shadows.

Swinging through the city, Peter realized that his good feeling hadn't left him, even after the battle he just fought. He felt alive, more energized, far better than the last time he faced off against Werewolf. MJ had almost given him a kick, a sugar rush even, and he felt like he could go swinging forever and not ever feel tired.

As Oscorp Tower came into view, he expected to see Werewolf scaling the tower. But when he didn't, he instantly thought he beat him there. He didn't even know what floor he made camp on.

But the wide open window kind of helped him out there.

After gaining the necessary altitude, Peter leapt through the window, which led him into a small, bare room. There were some lights on, but not enough to see clearly. The door to the room was open, and he walked through into the lab.

The lab was quiet, but Peter noticed there were a few instruments missing. He made his way into an office, and saw that there were papers all over the ground, and scratch marks on the desk. As he inspected the office, he picked up a broken vial that lay beside the desk, the needle dripping with an eerie green fluid. He took a picture of it with Karen's help, and walked back out into the lab. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the giant incubator was open, and there was a huge chair inside, but it was very weird-looking and it gave him a bad feeling. That hadn't been there before when the class visited that very same day.

**Peter, I've got him. He's in the sewers beneath the building.**

"You remembered to tag him?" Peter asked, smiling at his A.I.'s quick thinking.

**Yup, but he's moving fast.**

Peter was out of the window in a flash, dropping the vial as he launched himself out of the lab's side room. He skydived toward the street, pulling up at the last second.

**There's a manhole ten feet in front of you.**

Peter thanked Karen, finding the covering almost instantly. He didn't fancy paying a visit to the city's drain, but he steeled himself and lifted the cover, slipping into the sewer in pursuit.

The sewer was very dark, the only light seeping through the grates on the sidewalks. Karen activated night vision as he walked, creeping around corners in case Werewolf decided to jump scare him. The place reeked, and Peter wrinkled his nose at the stench. May wouldn't appreciate him coming home smelling like garbage again.

After a few minutes of careful creeping, he stopped when he heard a waterfall along with muffled voices. Activating Drony, he had his little mechanical friend hover forward, Peter watching through its camera. What he saw was no less than surprising.

In the hub of the drainage system, was Werewolf. He stood in the middle of a makeshift lab, where a large, shadowed figure was furiously working to set everything up. Peter spotted the silver case on one of the tables.

"So you did take care of him, correct?" A raspy, hoarse voice asked, the sound stilling Peter's rapidly-beating heart.

"The target has been eliminated, and the package retrieved," Werewolf replied, but Peter noticed something different in his tone. He sounded dull and lifeless, almost like he was depressed or void of emotion.

"Splendid," the voice answered, "did you have much trouble?"

Before Werewolf could respond, another one of those sparks flashed on his head, making the lycan flinch. "I encountered one hostile. Not an interference."

Peter frowned at the statement, almost offended. He thought he had put up a pretty good fight. He had done a lot better than last time.

"That blasted Spider-Man. I can just tell it was him," the voice hissed in irritation, "he's going to be a problem."

As much as he wanted to stay, Peter knew he was playing a dangerous game by sticking around. Calling back Drony, Peter began to slip away, retracing his steps until he found another manhole. He would return to the sewer another time, when he could properly assess the situation and act accordingly. In the morning, he would let Happy know what was going on.

But for now, he had better, less stressful things to think about.


	21. Once A Thief

The next few days went by quick. Peter never got around to telling Happy what the deal was. When everything was quiet the night after Werewolf's breakout, he assumed that whoever he was working for was lying low, along with himself. Karen kept Peter updated on his movements, but in the few days that went by, Werewolf never moved from the sewer. But whether he asked for it or not, the media had picked up on Werewolf's actions at the bridge. Several eyewitnesses claimed that it was a huge wolf, not the Hulk as previously theorized, that attacked. They even talked about how Spider-Man had thwarted him.

But besides that, Peter couldn't be in a better state of mind. After telling Ned about MJ's newfound discovery, the boys quickly welcomed her into their group. As in, she actually sat with them at lunch as opposed to the end of the table. But both Peter and MJ deliberately refrained from telling Ned about what happened between them.

In fact, MJ seemed to be avoiding the subject entirely. She never brought it up when it was just them two alone, and Peter was too scared to ask her about it. What did this make them? They were in a limbo state, and Peter had no idea how to get out.

But MJ did tell the boys about what happened to her almost a week before. Since Peter had already described his encounters with Werewolf, she thought her experience would help in piecing together what his mysterious motives were. Peter recalled that night, and he remembered having to save a guy that had been launched out of the alley. It never occurred to him as to who might have thrown him.

"So, he robs stores _and_ helps out?" Ned questioned, confused, "is he an anti-hero or something?"

"Mr.Stark said that someone who plays both sides of the law is dangerous," Peter pointed out, "maybe he was right."

"But you said yourself that something was different about him on the bridge," MJ countered, raising her finger, "like his eyes and the thing he had on his head."

"Well, he wasn't himself, that was for sure," Peter agreed with a nod of his head, "but I don't know what it could be."

"Could that helmet have been controlling him?" Ned asked, pulling out his phone to look at something.

"It _did_ look like it electrocuted him every few minutes," Peter conceded, "but I don't know what that could be doing to him personally."

Then, an expression of shock came over Ned, and he looked at Peter with wide eyes.

"Werewolf's been spotted," he said simply, his eyes wide.

"What? Where?"

"He's attacking an Oscorp truck," Ned said simply, giving Peter a worried look.

" _Attacking?!_ " Peter demanded, realizing what Ned was telling him, but wondering why Werewolf would be out in broad daylight, "where is he now?!"

"The chase is going on through Clinton Hill," Ned answered, and Peter stood up quickly.

"You can't just ditch in the middle of school!" Ned said as Peter started off in a fast walk toward his locker.

"Don't be stupid," he heard MJ say as Peter took off in a sprint through the hall. He didn't care that the other students gave him weird looks as he catapulted by. All he knew was that there was a truck on the rampage through New York, and Werewolf was involved.

After retrieving his backpack with his suit, he ran to the front door. But he stopped short to see that the principle was there, probably guarding it for this exact moment. Peter took a sharp left and escaped out an exit door, which took him down a flight of stairs to the parking lot. He sprinted across the lot and across a street, diving into the nearest alley. He beat his previous changing time of five and a half minutes by 15 seconds. Not wishing to waste anymore time, Peter kept his backpack with him, slinging it over both his shoulders before webbing up into the buildings.

Finding the chase wasn't hard. All he had to do was follow the sirens.

The Oscorp truck was barreling through the street, driving at a high speed and crashing into absolutely everything that was in its way. A stream of cop cars were chasing after it, and Peter swung above them. He threw his backpack and webbed it to a light post, making a mental note to return for it. On top of the truck's trailer, was the one and only Werewolf, who was sporting his classic black fur. He was crouched on the roof as he attempted to rip a hole through it to get at whatever was inside.

Peter landed behind him, shouting, "here boy!"

The lycan turned on a beat, immediately going to backhand Peter. But he bent backward and Werewolf's steel claws glided over him, just inches away from his face. He tried desperately to avoid the lycan's flailing blows, knowing full well of the power that lay in each swing.

"Bad boy! Bad boy! Heel! Heel!" Peter exclaimed through the onslaught of swipes and punches.

As Peter ducked again, a gun sounded, and Werewolf took a step back. A cop from one of the cars had shot at him, and Werewolf roared in anger as he was assaulted by a hail of gunfire. He threw his arms over his face, and Peter shot a web at Werewolf's ankles and pulled hard, yanking his legs out from under him. He fell into the space between the truck and the trailer, and the officers ceased their fire.

"Who's driving this thing?" Peter asked as he got up and tried to web Werewolf down, but he was far too strong, tearing through his restraints as his multiple bullet wounds healed, closing instantly without a trace of blood.

Peter left him and visited the driver. He was a familiar-looking man with a heavy metal gauntlet attached to his hand, laughing maniacally as he crashed into the cars in front of him. Peter tapped on his window and the man looked at him in confusion before rolling it down.

"Um, sir, I'm not sure you know, but there's a dog on your roof and I'd advise calling animal control. Unless of course you're a dog lover," Peter explained, but when the man aimed a punch at him with his gauntlet, he quickly ducked out of the way.

"Yeah, and there's a bug on my window!" The man shouted aggressively, and Peter peeked through the window.

"I bet you're a cat person," he said, just then realizing that this guy was one of the Vulture's old accomplices, known on the street as The Shocker.

When he returned to Werewolf, he saw that the lycan had broken through the roof and was retrieving a very odd-looking piece of equipment from a box. It was a quarter Werewolf's height, not even as tall as Peter, and it was made of a shiny metal. Werewolf was busy breaking off the straps holding it in place to notice the boy looking down at him.

"Once a thief, always a thief, huh?" Peter smirked, causing Werewolf to look up. And that's when the hero noticed that his eyes were blue once again, but his pupils were dilated into slits. The flat helmet was still attached to his head, and a familiar blue spark shot from it, temporarily stunning the lycan.

"Seriously, do you like wearing that thing?" Peter asked, jumping through the hole and landing beside Werewolf, "it doesn't seem comfortable at all."

Werewolf swatted at the boy, but he caught his clawed fist in both his hands. Peter paused, impressed with what he'd just done, and didn't realize that Werewolf had another free hand, which he used to slam him against the side of the trailer. The web-slinger kicked off his chest as Werewolf swung again, indenting the side as he missed. Peter webbed his hand to the wall, hoping to contain him, but like always, it didn't.

"Talk to me, Wolf!" Peter said as Werewolf struggled to free himself, "this is crazy! _You're_ crazy!"

The lycan roared as he ripped his hand free, almost crushing the instrument he was trying to steal. He swiped at Peter, who was running out of places to jump to. Suddenly, the truck took a sharp turn and they both were thrown to the side. Werewolf caught the huge machine before it could slam into him, and he threw his fist down on Peter's shoulder, making the web-slinger cry out in pain. Peter webbed his fist to the wall again and delivered a kick to Werewolf's head.

"You don't wanna talk?" Peter questioned, growing frustrated at Werewolf's silence as he repeatedly kicked at his head. The lycan roared again at Peter's persistence, only to have his entire mouth webbed shut, "there you go!"

Then, the truck grounded to a stop, and Peter held on to the wall as Werewolf was tossed forward. He tried to block the lycan's escape, but Werewolf wouldn't be stopped, kicking Peter back through the trailer door and into the street. Taking the tech in his hand, Werewolf jumped through the hole in the roof.

"You are surrounded!" A voice over a megaphone called, and Peter looked around to see Werewolf standing on the trailer. The truck had come to a halt in the middle of Times Square, and the police offices had their guns trained on the lycan, and a SWAT team had arrived, armed with heavy automatic rifles. The pedestrians scurried out of the way, some stopping to take pictures of Werewolf.

"We will fire on you! Stand down!" The voice commanded again, sounding more urgent.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Peter called desperately, hoping to spare the crazed lycan. The boy turned to him and spoke his name.

"Werewolf," he said, and Peter saw his ears flick forward in attention to Peter's voice.

"I know you're in there," Peter went on, holding his hands up to keep Werewolf steady, "that thing on your head, it's messing with you."

Werewolf glanced at him, and in his bright blue eyes, Peter could have sworn he saw a look of anguish. But another shock came from the helmet, and the look was gone, replaced by a blank stare. A snarl pulled at his lips, and his attention returned back to the army of cops.

"Stand down!" The voice ordered as Werewolf's fur started to bristle, "stand down or we will open fire!"

Werewolf roared angrily, and crouched low. With a howl, he dropped the machine and leapt through the air, and started attack the officers. The police opened fire as promised, but the bullets did little to slow down the lycan's rampage. He attacked anyone within range, and Peter tried to save as many cops as possible by ensnaring Werewolf's powerful arms or by yanking the officers out if his path. But a few fell under Werewolf's metal claws, and as the others dragged away the injured, the lycan made his escape.

Retrieving the tech, Werewolf scaled a building and disappeared over the roof. Peter swung in pursuit, but by the time he got to the building, Werewolf was gone. All there was to trace him were bloody handprints that only appeared on the roof, and led nowhere. 

**Peter, his tracker's on you.**

Puzzled, Peter felt around his suit and found the small, nickel-sized tracker attached to his shoulder. Werewolf must have put it there when he hit him back in the trailer.

"He may be crazy, but he's smart," Peter mused to himself, looking around the rooftop while holding the tracker, "what's up with him?"

 **I think I may know, Peter. That helmet on his head, I ran a scan on it.** A picture of the helmet appeared in Peter's lenses. **That helmet sends a bolt of high-powered electricity into his brain every three minutes. That much voltage is damaging his brain, and almost certainly causing memory loss.**

"Did someone put that thing on him to control him?"

**That would make sense.**

"How has his brain survived?"

**He might have some regenerative properties. Those bullets seemed to have no effect on him.**

"What does this all mean? That he's being forced?" Peter questioned.

**It makes sense that he would be.**

"That's insane," Peter ordered, swinging away from the building, "I don't know what to even do about that."

**Me neither, but in the mean time, you have five minutes to get back to school before lunch ends.**

"Ah, right," Peter sighed, and went to retrieve his backpack, Werewolf still on his mind. 


	22. Upping The Ante

***Werewolf's pov***

_"I know you're in there," The hostile said, holding his hands up, "that thing on your head, it's messing with you."_

Kid, run, _a voice echoed inside Jack's head, before a blinding light streaked in front of his eyes._

Werewolf was sloshing his way through the sewers, dragging the machine Connors had ordered him to steal. The machine, called the Tech-1 Disperser, was as highly-volatile piece of equipment. If loaded with a toxin or gas, it could expand the substance to a 20-mile range. It was the first of its kind made by Oscorp, and Connors had demanded it so he could further his plan.

But Jack was teetering on the precipice of his sanity, and his brain throbbed from inside his head. His whole body was numb, and pain was a fleeting thought. Even as he carried the machine, he felt that what he was doing was wrong, and the faces of the terrified officers flashed before his eyes. He stopped to lean on the drain wall, setting the machine down. He pressed his hands on the wall and clawed down the stone, leaving a reddened trail. He didn't know why he was doing what he was doing, just that he had to do it. He sat down, letting the heaviness in his heart swallow him for a moment as he stared blankly at his bloodied claws, his ears lying flat as he remembered the injuries he had inflicted.

No amount of voltage could take away those memories.

Eventually, he picked himself up along with the instrument and returned to the lab, where he found his boss distributing green liquid into vials. The first time he'd transformed hadn't gone well, so he was hoping to make the effects last longer. He had taken on a form of a lizard, huge and powerful, like Jack himself. But the transformation lasted only an hour, and Connors was working to lengthen its time.

Jack set the machine down on the side of the wall, and leaned against it, pressing his head against the cement. He glanced once again at his paws, seeing the red painted on his metal claws, and grimaced at the sight.

_Jolt!_

The electricity did little to help him forget. He was simply doing as he was ordered to, but it took a certain effort not to kill whoever he saw as the voltage ran its course. The man that Connors had hired to steal the bus had no idea that his partner would be a lycan. But Jack did his job, and he did it well. To Connors, that's all that would matter.

"Splendid, you've retrieved it!" Connors suddenly exclaimed, and Jack pushed himself off the wall as the scientist approached. His glasses were gone, and his eyes were a sickly green, faint scales growing on either side of his face. "Looks like the police found you."

"It doesn't matter," Jack replied gruffly, flattening his ears.

"No, it doesn't. Not anymore," Connors said, and he went over to a table where a new, small wooden box was. The scientist saw him spying it and he patted the box.

"This is just something I picked up today," Connors explained, "just as a contingency."

"For what?"

"Nothing you need worry about," Connors replied, running his one hand over the smooth mahogany surface, "did you get rid of that tracker?"

Jack nodded, "I planted it on the hostile. He wasn't a problem."

"No, but he's becoming one. Which brings us to your next mission."

Jack pricked his ears at the words.

"I need you to kill Spider-Man."

_I would never kill you._

_Jolt!_

"Kill him," Jack echoed as the electricity ran through his body, "I thought we weren't going to do that."

"The Avengers, or what's left of them, can't stop us now," Connors said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Spider-Man is the only one blocking our direct path, so he must be removed."

A heavy feeling came over Jack's heart, and he shook his head, growling, "but I can't."

The scientist gave him a peculiar look, and Jack gazed at him pleadingly, "I can't kill him."

"Must I up the power on that thing?" Connors asked, and he went up to Jack, ordering him to lower his head. Instinctively, Jack did so, and the scientist tweaked the helmet, cranking up its voltage output.

"Tonight, you will end Spider-Man's life," Connors commanded, and Jack flattened his ears, "Are you ready to obey?"

_Jolt!_

The electricity was so painful it almost knocked Jack backward. His ears rung, and all he could think of was what Connors had just said. He grimaced at his throbbing head, but he felt anger in his heart, aimed at his enemy. Nothing would stop him from killing him. This time, he wouldn't hold back.

"Ready to comply."


	23. Bleacher Report

When Peter snuck back into school, he quickly changed back into his jeans and favorite science pun t-shirt. After checking the halls for a snooping principle, he slipped back into his current class while the teacher was out making copies. None of the students paid him any mind, and he fist-bumped Ned, who appeared relieved at his return. MJ raised an eyebrow as Peter massaged his sore shoulder, and continued to throughout the class.

After school, Peter thought about doing just a short patrol. Werewolf was his biggest threat as of now, and if he'd gone underground again, Peter doubted he'd make another appearance until the cops stopped searching for him. He had to figure out a way on how to separate him from the helmet. Peter figured, once he was free of it, he would return to being "kind of" good again. Sure, he wasn't the best, even before, but he was better then than he was now.

Peter walked along the football field at the front of the school, set on his task at hand. But he paused when he saw MJ sitting alone on the bleachers. She wasn't in detention like usual, so he wondered if something was up. Putting his plan on hold, he ambled over to her. She was near the top, and the bleachers were a full twelve levels, but that didn't stop him from easily leaping and catching the rail, hanging casually on the other side. She looked over to him as he heaved himself over and came over to her.

"This is a weird place to sketch people in crisis," he observed, and he heard her chuckle as she looked back down at her sketch pad.

"I just wasn't feeling it today," she replied as he sat down beside her.

He nodded in understanding, leaning forward. He glanced at her drawing, and saw that it was a werewolf, from the shoulders and up. It had broad shoulders and a big head, with pricked triangular ears. The details were very precise, and Peter admired her talent.

She glanced at him out the corner of her eye, and quickly hid her drawing.

"Why not let me see it?" Peter asked as she glared at him for spying.

"Because you haven't earned that privilege," she replied simply, flipping the page.

"So I can kiss you, but seeing your drawing is off-limits?" He questioned, not getting the logic.

"I never said you could do that either, Parker," she snapped, tossing her bangs out of her face, "it's just- they're two entirely different things."

"But you're against me kissing you?" He asked with a smirk.

"Okay, now you're just twisting my words," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Well, make up your mind!"

"I would if you'd stop screwing with it!"

She looked back down, and Peter tipped his head, quirking his mouth and clicking his tongue in thought. He was confused, not really sure how to respond. Had he done something to give her that impression?

"Don't do that," she then ordered, and he gave her a surprised look.

"Do what?"

"That look. Stop it."

"MJ, did I do something to upset you?" He asked, and she groaned aloud in frustration.

"That's just it. I don't think you're even aware that you're doing it," she sighed, leaving Peter with more questions than answers, "I know you're trying to get over Liz, but don't use me as a means to cope, okay? I'd rather be alone if that's what this is."

Peter was stunned. MJ thought she was a rebound? Ned had speculated the same thing, but Peter's crush on MJ started when he saw her for what she truly was. An interesting, snarky, quick-witted individual who always spoke her mind, and was genuinely a great person to hang with. She wasn't afraid to be herself, even if that did make her come off as unapproachable to some people. She was unique and clever, and so many other things Liz hadn't been, or straight up wasn't.

"MJ, it's not like that-," Peter started, but MJ was already on her feet, holding her sketchbook and staring down at him.

"You may know what my favorite color is, but you don't know why," she said, beginning to walk away, "let me know when you figure it out."

Peter wanted to chase her, but she was right, in a way. He'd have to prove that his affection was legit, and not a coping mechanism made up by his mind. He would prove it to her.

Somehow.


	24. Winter Werewolf

The rest of the day was a blur. Peter couldn't get what MJ had said out of his head. He needed to prove himself to her, but he had no idea how. She was the hardest person in the world to impress, but the thought of _convincing_ her of something she didn't believe in sounded like the most terrifying task in the world. MJ was as stubborn as she was amazing.

Peter stayed out late that night, chilling out in a scrapyard just across the river from Manhattan. It was quiet and a good place for him to think. Sometimes there were friendly stray dogs that he'd give treats to, but there were none there on that particular night.

"What kind of things are gray, Karen?" Peter asked his A.I.

**Hmm, there are some particular breeds of dogs and cats that are gray. Also vintage photos and old movies appear that color.**

"Movies!" Peter exclaimed in realization, "MJ said she loves old black and white movies! Especially old shows like I Love Lucy and The Twilight Zone."

Before Karen could suggest anything else, another thought hit him. "And pencil lead! Charcoal pencils! The things she draws with! Almost all her pictures are gray!"

**You're very observant, Peter.**

"What else..? Maybe she loves gray because it's the perfect balancing color between light and dark?"

**Is it that deep a reason?**

"Have you met MJ?" Peter asked, "everything's a philosophical breakdown with her."

Then, there was a rustle from one of the scrap piles. Immediately growing alert, Peter stood up, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders onto the roof of the car he was perched on. Karen ran a scan, searching for a heat signature, but didn't find one.

**Check behind you.**

Peter did as he was told and turned, only to see a flash of orange across his lenses. Something was hiding out in the yard, and Peter began to feel like he was being hunted.

**Peter, get out of there.**

He was slow to respond, because every muscle was tense with anticipation. Something was waiting for him to move, baiting him to try and escape. He was being watched, being preyed on like a wild animal.

Or _by_ a wild animal.

"Werewolf?" Peter called, taking a chance that it might be the anti-hero. There was no answer, and Peter started to feel stupid. It was probably just a cat or one of the dogs of the scrapyard. Nothing to get worked up about.

"Don't worry, Karen," he assured his A.I. as he picked up his book bag and started to hop the cars, "it was nothing."

He had spoken way too soon.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when a fearsome roar split the quiet night air. Peter whipped around to see the colossal form of Werewolf lunging at him. The young hero sidestepped out of the way, and the black-furred lycan landed back on the ground, turning on Peter with bared teeth. He wore ragged blue trousers and his eyes were glowing his usual brilliant blue, his pupils vertical slits like that of a snake.

"You know, I gotta admit, you had me there," Peter conceded, tossing his backpack aside.

But Werewolf wasn't into the banter, and instead of charging Peter, he rammed into the car he was standing on. The boy backflipped away as Werewolf tore his way through it, chasing after Peter.

Never before had Peter taken on Werewolf in an all-out brawl. The Coney Island thing didn't really count because the lycan ended up running away, and the Brooklyn Bridge was more or less Peter just evading thrown cars. Even during the truck chase, Werewolf wasn't really out to fight him. But now, nothing about Werewolf's persona gave off a feeling of distraction or escape. Werewolf was fighting to win.

He was fighting to kill.

And, like an idiot, Peter decided to take him on one-on-one.

It was like a mixed martial arts match, but way, way harder. Werewolf was huge and powerful, and every missed blow sent up a gust of wind. The best Peter could do was kick him in the head and stop his punches, because the web-slinger's own punches weren't strong enough to inflict any real damage on Werewolf. The lycan even tried to bite Peter, but the boy grasped both his jaws and kept him back. It made him feel like King Kong when he fought the T-Rex.

Peter did a good job keeping up until he was blinded by a flash from Werewolf's helmet. The wires within it were glowing an electric blue, sparking wildly. Someone must have cranked up the power, because Werewolf seemed to grimace in pain, roaring fiercely as he shook his head.

"Let me help you!" Peter said, trying to web down his stomping feet, "I can get it off!"

But Werewolf wouldn't have that, and he swiped at Peter, keeping him away. But the boy was undaunted, and he swung onto the lycan's powerful shoulders and attempted to rip the helmet off. But Werewolf managed to grip the back of Peter's suit and throw him to the ground. Temporarily stunned and gasping for breath, the hero tried to roll away. But Werewolf brought his foot down on Peter's chest, locking his claws in, digging into Peter's skin. The boy cried out in agony as Werewolf lifted him by the neck, and slid his steel claws down his chest, ripping three lines through his suit and three lines into his skin, drawing blood.

"Man, not the suit," Peter groaned in sorrow as Werewolf dragged his limp frame across the yard to a vehicle. The boy struggled in vain to loosen his hold, but couldn't as he was lifted again.

Without mercy, the lycan then slammed Peter into the side of a rusted SUV, his head breaking through the glass. Still holding him by the throat, Werewolf rammed the hero again and again into the vehicle, showing his steel teeth in a terrible snarl.

He then dropped Peter when he stopped resisting, standing over him. Slowly, Peter lifted his head, blood coming out of his mouth from a torn lip, and he took off his mask as he coughed, his ribs aching. But rather than give up, he decided to try one last thing.

Summoning the last of his strength, he jumped up and webbed both of Werewolf's feet, pulling and successfully making him fall on his back. Dropping his mask, Peter used the opportunity to ensnare every flailing limb, even muzzling him. But Werewolf was quickly tearing through his web prison, so Peter acted fast, leaping to Werewolf's head and finding the metal clasp that held the slick steel strapping in place around the base of his chin. The helmet was glowing, getting ready to distribute another charge, and Peter unclipped it as Werewolf broke free.

The helmet tumbled to the ground and pulsed, sending out a small shockwave that made Peter's skin tingle. But its release didn't effect Werewolf immediately, for the second he regained his feet, he delivered a swift backhand to Peter, knocking him face first to the ground. The boy was then picked by the leg and he was swung, crashing into the nearest car and eventually falling limp to the ground. Werewolf approached him and stood ready for the kill, growling with flattened ears as he brandished his claws.

"I thought... you said... you'd never... kill me," Peter choked out, not looking up at Werewolf. The last thing he'd wanna see were his possessed, snake-like pupils.

He braced for a blow that would crush his skull, but nothing came. Werewolf instead was staring around, breathing hard. His muscles relaxed and his tail stopped thrashing. The pupils in his eyes returned from slits to their normal spheres, and the vicious glow evaporated from his gaze. He sighed heavily as the tension from his body released, and he swayed.

Then, he looked down Peter, and his blue eyes went wide in shock as he remembered everything. He gasped and took a step forward, then glanced at his paws. He recoiled, realizing what had just taken place.

"No no no," he blustered softly, "I couldn't have. I didn't-no no no."

"Welcome back," Peter groaned, forcing himself to get to his knees. He gave the mortified werewolf a weak smile. Peter looked down and saw that his suit was reattaching itself, the fibers intertwining as it stitched itself back together, like new.

"I can't- I couldn't have-," Werewolf was stammering. He was stunned, horrified by his actions, "I'm so sorry. I had no control. You have to believe me."

Peter held up a hand, "it's okay, Wolf. At least you're back."

There was a bright blue spark from the helmet that lay on the ground. Frowning, Peter webbed it to himself and proceeded to snap it in half, breaking all the wires. Whoever made this had meant to contain Werewolf by breaking his mind, over and over again.

Werewolf gaped, unable to process the battered hero's forgiving tone. He moved to say something when he flicked his ears back. Something that looked like a plane was arcing through the night, and rounded off, right toward them.

While Werewolf stared in puzzlement, Peter knew immediately. He reached out to warn Werewolf but it was too late.

The lycan turned his whole body as Iron Man barreled toward him, throwing his fist straight into Werewolf's jaw. He stumbled backward with a cry, and tried to hold off the suit's precise hits, which seemed to target all of Werewolf's weak spots.

"No!!!" Peter shouted, webbing his mentor's arm and yanking back before he could deal a blow. Werewolf stumbled away, turning to run, but Tony aimed a hand at him, shooting a golden beam. The lycan screeched as the laser made contact with his skin, creating a horrible burn on his shoulder. But the burn instantly healed, skin growing back and the black fur over it.

"Stop!!!" Peter shouted desperately to Tony, "please stop!!!"

The boy webbed both of his arms and pulled him away before he could shoot Werewolf again. The lycan disappeared from the scrapyard, fleeing into the night.

"You better have a good explanation," Tony then said angrily, ripping Peter's webs off his suit as he turned to him.

How would he even start?


	25. Learning From The Past

"So yeah, he was being mind-controlled the whole time with this thing!" Peter finished explaining, holding up the now-broken helmet.

Tony proved to still be in Bali. The suit was a sentry he'd sent when Karen contacted him telling about the trouble he was having in the scrapyard, when things started to look bad.

"So, what about before? With the fire?" Tony questioned, the suit hovering off the ground. Peter's chest wounds were starting to sting, even though the suit didn't show it. He wished for the conversation to be over, so he could go home and rest, but he knew Tony was just being protective.

"That was him without it. He was kind of good back then."

"You do know the whole city is looking for him, right? He almost killed four people. Police officers, no less."

"But that wasn't him! If he had a choice, he would never have done that!" Peter explained, desperate to convince his Avenger mentor of Werewolf's innocence, "Someone put that thing on him to manipulate him, to control him! I just know it!"

The statement gave Peter's mentor pause, and he dropped to the ground. He was silent for a moment before he held up a finger, dabbing it at Peter.

"You sound a lot like Rogers," Tony then said, and Peter shivered at his mournful tone. Steve Rodgers was Captain America, the Avengers' former leader who had torn the team apart to protect a dangerous assassin. At least, that's what Tony had told him.

"Look, I lost him over that whole thing in Berlin, and I'll admit, we were both in the wrong," Tony went on, and the suit approached Peter and helped him to his feet, "God, kid, I lost half my team because neither of us wanted to listen to the other. I'm not going to lose you too for the same reason."

"So you understand?" Peter asked hopefully, his mouth raising in a smile.

Tony sighed audibly, and patted the boy's sore shoulder, "I'll try to. If your werewolf is found, I'll do what I can to protect him for you. Give the suit the helmet. It might be helpful in proving his innocence."

Peter gladly handed him the mind-wiping technology. He had to admit, he was stunned by Tony's compassion. He wasn't expecting the understanding that Tony showed, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't grateful. Had he learned something from the past? Had what happened during the Avengers civil war changed him somehow?

"Thank you, Mr.Stark," Peter said as Tony's suit began to hover again.

"Get home, kid. Take the day off tomorrow. You've earned it," was all Tony replied before taking off into the night sky. 


	26. Betrayal

***Werewolf's pov***

Jack escaped the scrapyard, mortified by what he'd almost done to Spider-Man. He almost killed him! He, Jack Russell, almost murdered a superhero in cold blood! Why had Spider-Man forgiven him? Why had he been so understanding? The look on the beat-up boy made him feel guiltier, knowing that he was so young.

And he really was just a kid. And a familiar one at that. But the young hero's features were shadowed behind the black eye, bleeding lip and the busted face. But his youth couldn't be hidden. He had to still be in high school. And yet, he had handled himself quite well in their fight. Up until the end, that is.

And, to be fair, Iron Man's actions had been unwarranted. Jack was already in his right mind by the time he showed up. He was appreciative that Spider-Man had helped out the way he did by holding Iron Man back. It gave him a few seconds to escape, even if he did get torched on the way out.

If Jack didn't have his regenerative ability and toughened skin, the laser would have taken his arm clean off. But the second the beam made contact with his flesh, his cells were already working to protect and heal him, new skin already forming to replace his burned area.

He crossed the bridge, his feeling of betrayal building with every step. Connors had managed to oust him in public, put him at the top of New York's Most Wanted list, and had attempted to turn him into a monster. If it wasn't for Spider-Man, the maddened scientist would've succeeded. Oh God, Jack even helped him formulate a plan to dismantle the whole city of New York ! He handed him the machine to do it!

 _No, it ends here,_ Jack thought as his rage grew. He would kill Connors before anything bad happened and then skip town. If Iron Man was on his tail, who knows how far behind the rest of the Avengers were? He would flee to the Appalachians, stay out of sight, and live the rest of his days in solitude. He couldn't risk hurting anybody else ever again.

As soon as he was across the bridge, he found a grate and pulled it up from the sidewalk. He slipped into the sewer and fixed the grate back in place before taking off in a sprint through the drains. He knew where to go because he usually got around the city unseen by using the sewer system.

After a good run through the murky sewer water, he came to the waterfall that poured into the Hudson River through the main drainage pipe. Beside it, lay that platform where Connors had built his lab. Scowling, Jack climbed up to it and looked around.

 _"Connors!"_ Jack roared at the top of his lungs, flattening his ears, "where are you, you backstabbing son of a bitch!"

"Well, well, well, looks like someone is upset," a calm, hissing voice said, and Jack looked over his shoulder.

It was Connors, but at the same time time, it wasn't. He was in his reptilian form, a form he coined simply as Lizard. He was maybe a few inches taller than Jack, with a long tail and green scales, and powerful muscles. He carried his lab coat over his arm, which was torn and shredded, and he gave Jack an evil smile, his teeth jagged and pointed.

"You bastard," Jack swore, baring his teeth, "I'll kill you for what you made me do."

"No no, Mr.Russell, that is where you're wrong," the scientist said, walking around Jack, "your willing actions are what made this plan happen. You got me the money and the DNA I needed to succeed."

"You won't," Jack growled, his black fur bristling.

"Oh yes, because you'll stop me, is that it?" Connors laughed, going over to his small wooden box and opening it, laying his ruined coat on the table, "dear boy, you were just a distraction. With the police after you, no one will notice me."

"No one will be able to _find_ you after this," Jack snarled, flexing his claws and lashing his tail.

Connors then straightened up, and flexed the claws on his right hand. Jack noticed a silver glint, and saw that Connors had metal caps over his index and middle claws.

"I figured something like this was bound to happen, you know," the lizard said, turning to him and showing off his talons, "so I had these special silver claws made."

Jack trembled. His one weakness, like all lycans, was silver. When wounded by it, his healing factor took longer to react, and he'd heal at a sluggish rate for a time. But if he was mortally wounded by anything containing pure silver, he would die. It was the only way to kill him.

"I have some special silver bullets too, in case you ever felt... determined," Connors added, his green eyes dancing with a mischievous light, "I took all the necessary precautions."

Jack didn't know what to do. With his newfound weapons, Jack couldn't go near him without suffering some serious injuries. But if he got a good bite in, he might be able to trigger a reaction. His fangs contained a poison that could kill an elephant in minutes, while his claws carried his lycanthropy disease. Both were capped with metal to keep him from infecting or poisoning anyone. Jack thought if he bit Connors with bare fangs, the poison would kill his lizard form and revert him back to his one-armed human form.

"I can't let you do this," Jack growled, shaking his head, "this is madness."

"My plan could save-no- _enhance_ the human race. You and I are step one. Soon, everyone in New York will be powerful lycans," the scientist explained, spreading his arms, "there's no need to stop me, Jack."

"There's every need. You told me you wanted to help people, not change them. Not turn them into things like me. That was never the idea," Jack retorted, snorting as he grasped one of his fangs, and with a shot of pain, ripped out the tooth along with its metal sheathe. A new one almost instantly appeared, growing back to take up the newly-vacant spot. "There will be others to stop you if I can't."

"You never did kill the bug, did you? Eh, no matter," Connors sighed, rolling his eyes.

He then slashed at Jack, scoring his now-silver claws down the lycan's shoulder. It felt like fire was incinerating his skin, like red hot blades were digging into his flesh and scorching him. He released a high pitched howl of anguish as Connors hooked his claws into his shoulder and dragged him backward toward the waterfall. Jack yelped and cried out, the tortuous pain practically blinding him.

"I could just shoot you," Connors was saying as he hauled him to the edge of the roaring falls, "but seeing you squeal is just such fun."

Tears were now streaming down his face, the agony unbearable as Connors held him on the edge, his claws still driving into his shoulder. He couldn't even move to defend himself. He glanced down at the waterfall that would take him to the Hudson, wondering if he'd even survive the fall.

"Now, my dear Jacob, this is where we part," the wicked scientist hissed, smiling sadistically, "and thank you, for all your help."

With that, Connors tossed him, throwing him down the waterfall. Jack clutched his shoulder, which gushed blood, and curled into a ball as the water overtook him. He hit the river system below and bumped violently against the sides of the drain as the tumultuous current carried him to the Hudson.

As darkness overtook him, Jack thought to himself that maybe this kind of fate was one he earned for himself, as punishment for everything he'd done to doom the city. In the end, maybe he did deserve it. Like he'd told Spider-Man, he wasn't a hero, and he would never be one. He was thief, and at the end of it all, he would die a thief. Lycans weren't heroic anyway, and they were rarely depicted as do-gooders, if they ever were. Even Van Helsing killed his true love in the end. They weren't good guys. They were fiends, beasts, things to fear.

They were monsters.

And as his life flickered before him, Jack knew he would die a monster too.


	27. Light

When Tony left, Peter put his mask back on and found his backpack. His chest was burning from the scratches left by Werewolf's steel claws, and he wondered how he would get home. Ned lived in Manhattan, over the bridge, so he couldn't crash at his house. He didn't dare call May, because she might never let him go out again, especially with the shape he was in.

Dragging his book bag, he walked down the street, calculating that it would take him over an hour to get home. He would have to cross the Brooklyn Bridge, which had just reopened after they finished cleaning up Werewolf's mess. Peter didn't think he'd make it, since his wounds were still bleeding and he had no one to turn to.

**Peter, Michelle's house is four blocks away. I would advise going there.**

At first, he resented the idea. He didn't want to show up at her place all beat up. But he knew he couldn't make it home. He gave the idea a lot of thought before deciding that it was best. He didn't know how MJ would react, and he thought about maybe calling her in advance. But she might not even be up. It was almost one in the morning! But one of the interesting facts he learned about her was that she would stay up until the wee hours of the morning to finish a book. So he had that going for him.

He walked the four blocks, limping from when Werewolf had swung him by the leg. He hoped no one was going for a late night run and saw him. That would be embarrassing.

Finally, after he felt like his leg was on the verge of giving out, he saw her townhouse, in the middle of a row of others. He decided to go to her balcony, because he didn't want her entire family knowing he was there. Holding his aching ribs, he shot a web and pulled himself up into the trees. He hit the branch, shooting a fresh dose of pain through his body. It took everything in him not to cry out, but he took deep, steadying breaths. Ignoring his agony, he jumped from branch to branch until he got to the tree that was level with her balcony.

He peered through the glass doors. She hadn't drawn her shades, and through the darkness of her room, he could've sworn he saw a light. It looked almost like a night light, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw her sitting up in her bed, aiming a flashlight at her book.

 _Wow, she wasn't kidding,_ he thought to himself before webbing over to her building, wincing as he made contact with her wall. Careful to be silent, he moved to her railing and jumped down on her balcony, pulling off his mask. He knew for sure that he might scare the living daylights out of her, but at this point, he'd be passed out before she could scold him for it.

With a shaky hand, he knocked softly on her window, leaning his head against the glass. Her head flew up and she shined her flashlight on him. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing. Eyes narrowed, she got out of bed and went to the door, sliding it open. She was wearing her pink pajama pants again and a gray sweater. He gave her a quirky smile before she went to him. MJ supported his weakened frame as she helped him inside her room.

After slipping off his backpack, MJ put him on the floor, his back against her bed, and she turned on a lamp. She used her hand, tilting his head from side to side so she properly inspect the damage. She seemed unimpressed but still somewhat concerned about his bruised face, pushing his curls out his eyes. His hand moved up and pressed on the spider emblem on his chest, and his suit loosened, falling off his shoulders. MJ gave him a peculiar look, raising an eyebrow.

"Woah, buy me dinner first, Parker," she snapped, but her gaze softened when she saw the horrible scratches across his torso.

"Don't move," she ordered him before leaving the room, and he half-chuckled to himself. He couldn't move even if he wanted to.

As she was gone, he looked around her room. He smiled at the pictures she had pinned to her wall, drawn by her own hand. While some were of students she had sketched in detention, several were of Spider-Man. One of them that caught his eye was him hanging upside-down. She had a gift for detail, and he greatly admired her skill. The best Peter could do were stick figures.

She returned a short time later with a towel and a bowl of water, as well as a water bottle. After closing the door, she handed the bottle to him after taking off the cap. Greatly appreciative, he took a long drink, realizing just how dehydrated he really was.

MJ knelt down beside him and soaked the towel in the bowl of water. After cleaning the blood and grime off his face, she proceeded to draw the towel over his bare chest, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He watched her, realizing how cute she looked when she was all focused.

"What were you reading?" He asked her, his voice a little hoarse.

"20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. I'm a sucker for Jules Verne," she replied, not taking her intense brown eyes off her task.

"I thought that was Charles Dickens," He remarked as she moved on to the next scratch.

"Not every 19th century book was written by Charles Dickens," she responded, glancing at him.

They were quiet for a moment, before MJ sighed, "I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and assume you ran into Werewolf."

"Yeah, and I managed to get that helmet off him," Peter answered, and she looked up at him, "he should be okay now."

"You didn't have to go after him."

"To be fair, _he_ came after _me._ "

"But still, these cuts are something else. He could've killed you."

"Sure, he could have, but I got the helmet off him before he did."

"Well, whoever put that thing on him is gonna get their butt whooped," MJ said, leaning back, "I'd be super pissed off if I was him."

"Well, maybe he'll do my job for me then and get rid of whoever he's working for," the boy said with a hopeful smile, "it'd give me a break."

"Ha, maybe," she laughed, gazing at his wounds. He didn't know what it was she was _actually_ looking at; his wounds or him.

"Now, did the spider that bit you give you a six-pack or..?" She asked, gesturing to him.

He laughed awkwardly, growing red, "I don't know really. I just woke up one day and I was like... this."

"You know, at first I wouldn't believe you, but crazier things have happened," she said with a subtle nod.

More silence followed as she cleaned him up, using the towel to massage his bruised rib cage. Everything on his body hurt, but she was making him feel loads better. She took the edge off his pain, and Peter couldn't take his eyes off her. He didn't know that MJ had such a caring side, and seeing it in action was amazing. It actually made him feel quite special.

"I think I figured something out, by the way," he started, and she returned her attention to him, "on why your choice color is gray."

She raised an eyebrow with a smirk, awaiting his explanation.

"It's because that's the color of all your favorite things. Pencil lead, old movies, vintage shows. It embodies everything you love," Peter explained, and she tilted her head. She went to add something, but he interrupted her, "and it's the perfect balance between light and dark."

MJ closed her mouth, a small smile appearing as she nodded her head. Her bangs fell over her face, and she gave him an impressed look.

"You gave it a lot of thought, didn't you?" She asked, and Peter sat up straighter, ignoring the twinge of pain he felt in his chest.

"Yes MJ, because I wanted to prove it to you," he answered, reaching up and pushing her bangs behind her ear and holding her face in his hand, "I wanted you to know that I am actually very serious about how I feel."

"And how, exactly, do you feel?" MJ questioned, scooting closer to him and leaning into his touch.

"When I'm with you; freaking amazing," he replied, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb.

"And you know how I feel about being..." she sighed, and he lifted his other hand so he was holding her face with both, bringing her closer to him.

"And you're not, MJ," he assured her, his voice falling to a whisper, "you never were."

He sealed his statement by kissing her, and this time, she wasn't hesitant. The heat of their kiss warmed his entire body, temporarily killing his pain. He smiled as their lips moved in sync, and he felt her run a hand through his curly brown hair.

When they pulled away, they just stared at each other, keeping their faces close together. Inwardly, Peter thanked Werewolf for scratching him, because if he hadn't, Peter would never have made it here, to this moment. The one he hadn't realized he had been waiting for.

"Believe it or not, you're my first kiss," Peter breathed, and she smiled at him.

"And believe it or not, you're mine," she laughed, pulling away from him to inspect his wounds, which were still oozing blood.

"Who knew that you laughed so much?" He joked, smirking.

"You're the only one who's ever made me," MJ replied, giving him a knowing look, "you have a way of getting it out of me."

"And honestly, I'm honored to possess such a talent," he said, grinning at her, "I want to make you laugh all the time, if you'll let me."

"You already do, in more ways than one," she chuckled, wiping at one of his scratches once more, "it's just hard for me to fully assess how I feel about you."

Something in Peter's chest fell. Was she going to deny him? Did she not feel the same way he did? Had he assumed too quickly that she would reciprocate his feelings? All these thoughts must have shown up on his face because in the next instant, she was holding his cheek, steadying him.

"Cool it, Webs. I'm not saying I don't like you," she pointed out with an assuring smile, allowing him to relax, "it's just- it's so hard to believe. You know how often I told myself that I didn't like you, when I did, because the thought of you ever liking me back was so... distant?"

"And what do you think now?" He asked her, moving closer, staring into her sparkling brown eyes, searching her gaze.

The idea that she had actually liked him back all this time was reassuring, as well as astounding. Did that mean that every dismissive remark, every roll of her eyes, was a way of telling herself to ignore him? He almost felt bad, cursing his past self for not being more vocal or upright. But he knew he had no way of knowing MJ's thoughts at the time. She might've punched him for suggesting anything like that, for all he knew.

"I think that- I'm glad I asked to take your picture," she said, and he smiled at the memory. For a few moments, they just sat there, grinning at each other like two idiots.

It was MJ who initiated the kiss this time. It was slow, and the rush it gave Peter was close to intoxicating. He gave her mischievous look before pulling her onto his lap, making her giggle, which the cutest sound she ever could have made. The kiss deepened, and it sent warmth through his veins, taking every last bit of his pain away. Yeah, he could fully admit that kissing MJ was probably the best thing in the world.

It was then that Peter realized how much he truly cared for this girl, this sardonic, honest, captivating girl he treasured more than anything. She was never a rebound. She was the 5-steps-behind-the-three-point-line-shot-at-the-buzzer. She was a light in his dangerous, unforgiving world, a light that told him that there was good in it too.

And nothing was going to take his light away.


	28. Sunny With A Chance of Lycans

The next morning was interesting, to say the least. Peter had slept on the floor of MJ's room, after making sure to message May that he was staying at "Ned's" place after a rough night heroing. The second half was true at least, but for the rest of it, not so much. Him and MJ had stayed up past three in the morning just talking. Something they did was that MJ would lay on her bed, Peter was on the floor, and MJ would let her hand hang down so she could reach him and they would play thumb wars as they talked.

MJ's parents were out by dawn. One of the things Peter learned was that her dad was a low-level cop who patrolled upper Manhattan. Her mother was a teacher at Hamilton High School, which was somewhere in Brooklyn, and her older sister was a custodian at the library. Because their jobs required them to leave early, MJ usually took the bus to school, but Peter wouldn't know that. He rarely ever made the bus, and when he did, he never really saw her.

But he did take Mr.Stark's advice and skip school the next day. He was so battered that he thought May would understand. Since her parents and sister would be gone all day, MJ invited him to hang out at her place until she got back from school.

"Don't wander though. And if I find out you looked through my stuff, you're dead," she warned him, giving the boy a long kiss before she left. Peter smiled, thinking how he wouldn't stick around that long but would definitely return.

After sorting himself out, he put his suit back on and took up his backpack, leaving through the balcony door. He had made up his mind that he would track down Werewolf and hopefully find him at his hideout in the sewers. He also hoped he'd maybe run into the lycan's boss and take care of whoever that was as well, if Werewolf hadn't already.

_"You don't have to look for him, you know," MJ said, reaching down to play with Peter's brown curls, "Werewolf's gone. Why go after him?"_

_"But he can't be. If you're right, then he'll go back to his boss and take care of him. I wanna go see if he did. I'll be fine," Peter explained as he twiddled his thumbs._

_"But what if he turns on you again?"_

_"He won't. He's in his right mind now. Like I said, I'll be fine."_

_"Still, I'm worried about you. Which is saying a lot because I've never cared about anyone."_

_"That makes me feel special," Peter laughed, leaning up and resting his chin on the side of her bed, his face close to hers, "but trust me, I'll be_ fine _, MJ."_

_"You say that a lot for someone who's almost died multiple times," MJ grinned, tapping his nose._

Peter swung away from her house, remembering the conversation with a smile. He liked that MJ cared for his well-being. It told him something about her.

He crossed the bridge, whooping joyously, "good morning, New York! Ya miss me?!"

He took the long route around, not going directly to his destination. He enjoyed the morning air, relishing the sun rising along the buildings. He never went heroing at dawn, and he liked the change of scene.

He also didn't realize how many petty crimes happened in the morning. He stopped some hold-ups and a few bike thefts, which were routine, but more common than he thought. But what shocked him most was a scene on the docks.

He was swinging on the edge of the city and stopped at the harbor to watch a ferry leave for Ellis Island. He liked watching it course across the water, but it sometimes gave him flashbacks to his last ferry experience. But this time, he wasn't watching the boat. He was investigating a small fishing dock, where there was dark blood stains painted on it, and some droplets nearby. There was a trail leading from the dock to a park nearby. Peter followed it, praying it didn't lead him to a dead body or something.

While it didn't lead him to that, much to his relief, it did however take him to a spot next to a tree in the middle of a nearby park. A pool of darkened blood lay at its base, some of it smeared on the bark. But that's where the trail stopped. It didn't go anywhere else. What surprised Peter was how much there was. No one could lose so much and survive. Whoever it was either dropped dead and was carried away or had evaporated into thin air.

Either way, who's ever blood it was long gone. What if it had to do with Werewolf? Had he done something else before he attacked Peter? Fearing the worst, he took to the sky and traveled toward Oscorp. He remembered where he had tracked the lycan last time, and as soon as he found the familiar manhole, he was down under it in seconds. Morning traffic didn't help, and he almost got run over as he went into the drain. It was his fault though. He hadn't looked both ways.

Almost the second he hit the murky waters of the sewer, there was roar from the street followed by several screams. Car horns blared and there were sounds of crashing. Peter instinctively thought it was Werewolf, but the roar was more shrill and not as resounding. The web-slinger sprang out of the manhole, and saw the oddest thing in the world.

It was a monstrous, almost seven-foot-tall lizard, like some kind of lycan, its skin all green and scaly. It was crashing out of the front doors at Oscorp, a sizable satchel slung across its wide-set shoulders. Was this new creature somehow linked to Werewolf? It didn't appear bothered by the commotion going on regarding its disastrous entrance. Peter jumped on top of a car and shouted to it.

"Yo Godzilla!" He shouted, and the lizard turned on him with menacing green eyes, "what zoo did you escape from?"

The lycan-lizard roared at him and Peter shot two webs aimed at its legs, throwing it onto its back. It did not like that, and shrieked in frustration as Peter swung it into a taxi. Peter thought that Werewolf must know this thing, like maybe this was who he was working for. But why would it be coming back from Oscorp?

Peter jumped as the lizard threw a bicycle at him, and he attempted to ensnare it. This lycan wasn't as coordinated as Werewolf had been, and was more clumsy and fell more easily into Peter's traps. Peter heard a distant siren and figured the cops must be coming to take the lizard down.

The lizard must've put that together too, and it looked down the street. It snorted in irritation, giving Peter an evil look. It leapt and tried to slam the boy, but Peter dodged just in time. But the lizard managed to grab onto Peter's backpack, making him lurch backward. The straps broke and Peter was thrown to the ground. The lizard sniffed and fumbled with his book bag, inspecting it.

It then froze, and looked at Peter as the web-slinger jumped into the hood of a truck. He didn't know whether it was surprised or delighted, but the look it gave him was off-putting all the same.

"Parker," it then hissed with a sly smile, and the boy's skin crawled at the tone of his voice. It must have read the name on the tag of his backpack, and that fact that it now knew his name was terrifying.

"I remember you," it went on, dropping the bag and walking toward the manhole, "my former acquaintance refused to kill you. You had... corrupted him. But he's no longer a problem."

A terrifying thought seized Peter.

"What did you do to Werewolf?" Peter demanded as a patrol car rounded the corner. The lizard kicked in the manhole while reaching into its satchel. It picked out a tiny, glinting object and tossed it toward Peter, and it bounced toward him on the cement ground.

"Soon, you shall share his fate," the lizard snarled as cops started to close in. Peter was paralyzed as it disappeared beneath the street, escaping into the sewer.

As police swarmed the area, Peter grabbed the object the lizard had thrown and webbed up into the buildings, away from the scene. He fled into the skyscrapers, the lizard's words engraved in his mind. He kept tight hold of the small object, and when he judged that he was far enough away, he came to a stop on top of the library. He looked at the object in his hand, and his heart plummeted, his chest tightening as recognition washed over him like a wave.

It was a metal fang.


	29. One Fang, A Million Theories

Peter was horrorstruck. Could that scaly fiend have really killed Werewolf? But how? Werewolf had a healing factor that could save him from anything! Peter's heart was heavy as he stowed the tooth away in one of his belt compartments. A part of him couldn't believe that his lycan friend was dead. Sure, Werewolf hadn't been a good guy in the truest sense of the term, but he was still nice and offered a helping hand when he needed to. He was good like that, at least.

As he swung through the city, he realized how much he would miss the wolf. He had only met him a handful of times, but he had been helpful on almost every occasion. Except for that time on the bridge, and the truck chase, and the scrapyard...

Either way, Werewolf was someone he liked, despite his flaws.

"Karen, send a message to Ned and MJ," Peter ordered, his thoughts revolving around Werewolf and the fang, "tell them to meet at my house after school. Let them know it's super urgent."

Karen did so, and Peter made his way home. He knew Aunt May might be mad at him for not coming home in the morning, and even madder for not going to school, but he hoped that she would settle down after he explained. As he rounded off into his neighborhood, he stuck to the roofs, keeping low so no one would know where Spiderman lived. He picked out his window and slipped into his room. Dropping to the floor, he quickly changed from his suit into some fresh clothes, careful to not make his scratches bleed.

"May?" Peter called, and suddenly, his door was pushed open. His aunt looked annoyed, at best.

"Why weren't you back this morning?" May asked him, crossing her arms and pursing her lips, "why aren't you in school?"

"It's a, uh, long story," Peter replied with a shrug, "but if it helps, Mr.Stark told me to take the day off."

"Yeah, as if that's supposed to make me feel better," May said sarcastically, shaking her head, "was he part of your "long story" last night?"

"Yeah, but trust me, nothing's wrong," Peter answered, "and MJ and Ned are gonna be here after school, just so you know."

"Who's MJ?" May asked.

"Uh, it's Michelle... Jones," he replied, realizing that May had never actually met or heard of MJ before.

"Oh yes, of course," May sighed, walking down the hall, "well, I'm going to go get some groceries. Please try not to die while I'm gone."

It was already noon, so Peter decided to keep himself busy. He wanted to know exactly what was capable of killing Werewolf. Not even a ton of bullets could take him down, and he had proven to be incredibly tough. Like, he had stopped a full-blown bus and left without a scratch.

Peter then took out the fang and studied it closely. It really was just a tooth in a metal case. The boy figured that that case must act as a protective covering of a sort, or maybe he just had a bad cavity.

Determined, Peter turned on his laptop and searched through Google for potential weaknesses to werewolves. Most of the results showed silver to be the top reason, like silver bullets and swords. Others said fire was a weakness, because the fur of a werewolf was particularly flammable. But then again, so was every other animal on the planet. But that weakness didn't quite make sense because Werewolf had escaped a burning building without so much as a singe.

Peter also read something interesting about their teeth and claws. Apparently, their claws carried their lycanthropy disease and their fangs bore a toxin that could kill anything in minutes. Peter remembered that Werewolf's claws were also capped. The boy decided that the lycan kept his teeth and claws protected in metal cases to stop him from infecting or poisoning anyone.

Around one in the afternoon, there was a knock on his door. Intrigued, he got up and left his room. He barely turned the knob when the door was thrown open, knocking him backward.

"What the hell, Parker!?" An irritated voice demanded as MJ burst into his apartment, and she quickly looked him up and down, as if checking to see if he was okay, "I thought you were dying!"

"Dying? What are you talking about?" Peter asked, confused out his mind.

"You sent me a message that said you needed to see me ASAP and that it was a matter of life and death!" MJ replied, cooling down but not letting the fire leave her eyes.

 _Karen,_ Peter groaned in his head.

"No, it's not-no, it's nothing that bad," Peter stammered, growing red with embarrassment for making MJ run out of school, "it's just-something happened today and I need to tell someone."

"So, to be clear, you're not dying?" MJ asked, holding a hand out. Peter facepalmed and then led her to his room.

He must have spent a half hour explaining what had happened, not leaving out any details. MJ listened attentively while sitting on his bed, messing around with Rubix Cube. Peter went over how the lizard found out his name, but more so about his research about the weaknesses to werewolves and deducted that something silver must've killed him. He couldn't help but feel bad that MJ had ditched school, but if anything she seemed to be relieved to not be there. When he finished his story, he picked up the metal fang from his desk and sat down next to her on his bed, staring at it intensely.

"I don't understand why you're more worried about some wolfman, and not about the fact that a random lizard thing knows who you are," MJ questioned, raising a quizzical eyebrow at him, "especially when it said that it _remembered you_."

"It's weird, I know, but the whole thing's so screwed up," Peter groaned, turning to face MJ, "Werewolf's gone and a dinosaur knows my name. I don't know what to think."

"But you don't actually think he's dead, do you?" MJ asked, leaning forward to look at the fang in his hand.

"What else _can_ I think?" Peter retorted, trading her solved Rubix Cube for the fang. He got up and started to pace the floor, setting the puzzle down on his desk. "I mean, if he is alive, then where is he?"

"Well, if he's a lycan, he's probably hiding out as a human," she pointed out, inspecting the tooth, "why do you care so much if he's dead anyway? He's tried to kill you almost every time you've met him."

"Not every time," Peter mumbled, running his hands through his hair as he sat down on the bed again, "I don't know. It's like I'm losing a friend I never had."

He felt her hand on his shoulder, and he looked back at her. Her brown eyes were full of understanding. He appreciated her empathy for his situation. He was almost happy that it was MJ that showed up and not Ned.

"I don't know why it bothers me as much as it does," he admitted, shaking his head, "I don't get it. I really don't."

"I think I do," she said, leaning back again, "when someone you know, even remotely, leaves your life, you feel it. Like, it leaves a hole in you."

Peter leaned back too, and they sat in silence. After a few moments, MJ turned to him.

"Did you know who he was, as a human?" She asked, giving him an inquisitive look.

"No, we never did get on a first-name basis," Peter responded matter-of-factly.

"I've always had a theory about who he might be," MJ suggested, tossing her bangs out of her eyes, "but I could never wrap my head around it."

She then turned the fang over in her fingers, adding, "By the way, with some string, this would make a kickass necklace."

"Who do you think he is?" Peter asked, curious as to who she thought Werewolf might be. Maybe knowing who he was might help Peter find him.

"Do you remember the guy I talked to when we were at Oscorp?" MJ asked, and Peter nodded, recollecting that he had been annoyed by the presence of the guy who went by Jack Russell, which wasn't even his real name. Peter had done a background check on him ages ago, and found out a few things, like how his actual name was Jacob Russoff and how he'd been off the grid for two years. But he wasn't about to tell MJ that.

"Anyway, his name was Jack, and I think he might be your werewolf," MJ concluded, "he has the same eyes, and I'm good at recognizing people, if I do say so myself."

"Not so much with me," Peter interrupted with a giggle.

"I always had my suspicions about you, Parker," MJ retorted, hitting him playfully on the shoulder, "but anyway, the first time I met Jack was at the bus stop last week, and when the bus whizzed by, he just took off after it. Seconds later, Werewolf showed up and stopped it by, you know, crashing it. And when I brought it up when I saw him at Oscorp, he was incredibly shady with me, like he knew I was onto him but wouldn't admit it."

Peter furrowed his brow, giving her theory some serious thought. Nothing from his background check on Jack, or Jacob, had given off a werewolf vibe. Karen had said he had mysteriously disappeared into the mountains, but Peter didn't warrant that as enough evidence to prove him to be Werewolf. However, her bus stop story was enough to turn his mind into that direction. Who would take off after a bus without an intention to stop it? Maybe MJ was onto something.

"You're cute when you think. You look all serious and brooding," MJ then said, derailing his train of thought. Peter laughed softly, shaking his head as his cheeks grew hot. It didn't matter how close they'd gotten, or how much they cared for each other or how much they'd gotten to know each other. She still found a way to embarrass him all the same.

"Did you really ditch school to see if I was okay?" He asked, giving her a cheeky grin and raising his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes, giving her head a slight shake.

"It took a lot of mental debate, let me tell you," she replied, smirking, "If Mr.Harrington hadn't cancelled today's decathlon meeting, I wouldn't be here."

"That's a lie."

"Is it? Unlike you, Webs, I've got a team to lead. Don't think you're that special."

He liked the mischievous grin she gave him, playfulness abound in her intelligent brown gaze, and he took her teasing with a grain of salt. He smirked at her and leaned forward, capturing her lips in a delicate kiss.She smiled against his lips, and reached up to hold his face.

"I don't have to think something I already know," he whispered when they broke apart.

Suddenly, Peter heard his front door open, and Ned called out his name. Peter quickly backed away from MJ, recoiling to the other side of his bunk bed, and she chuckled at his haste. Ned came to his bedroom door and stood there, watching them with suspicious eyes. He shook his head after a moment and approached them.

"Okay, I don't know what you texted MJ, but I swear I've never seen anyone take off outta class so fast," Ned started, and MJ threw a pillow at him, making both him and Peter begin laughing hysterically.

"And all this talk about mental debate," Peter said through bouts of laughter. MJ made a face at him, though he could see her barely-hidden smile.

"I know you're not gonna say anything about what's going on here," Ned quipped, gesturing to Peter and MJ, "so I won't bother asking. But anyway, what's the big deal, Pete?"

Once again, Peter went into a whirlwind about the day's events, going into the theories he and MJ made and explaining his discoveries on werewolves. Ned listened with the utmost attentiveness. MJ didn't care to hear everything all over again and she went over to Peter's computer, looking through all the werewolf research he had been previously combing through. He would have been embarrassed, but he genuinely didn't mind. He had already told her about his extensive searches, but he did get a little red when she found an open document with all of his Spider-Man selfies.

"So, this "lycan-lizard" knows you, Werewolf is gone, and you and MJ are a thing," Ned summed up, and MJ turned to glare at him, "All this before three. Fascinating."


	30. Of Bugles and Bullies

Peter went to school the next day, trying to keep Werewolf off his mind. He had let MJ keep his fang, because she wanted to make into a necklace. She and Ned had stayed over all day the other day, and Peter didn't go out again. He had taken the day off, for when did he ever get to really spend time with the people he was close to?

He buried himself in his work during morning classes, hoping to relax his heavy heart. But he couldn't bring himself to focus on the problems and equations, and took to zoning out. He heard Flash make fun of him but his foggy brain couldn't piece the bully's words together.

But something captured his attention that brought him out of his haze. When the class was dismissed for lunch, he passed the teacher's desk and spied a Daily Bugle newspaper. A picture of Spider-Man was plastered on the front, and he quickly swiped it before diving into the mass of students heading for the cafeteria. He knew the picture because MJ had taken it. Right under the picture was her name, saying that she had photographed it! One of her photos had actually made it into the paper!

He got to the cafeteria and saw that Ned and MJ were already there. Sneaking up behind her, he laid the newspaper down beside her book. It took her a second to process what she was seeing, and when she did, she picked the paper up and reread the name under the picture a hundred times. Peter looked over her shoulder and relished the huge grin on her face.

"Wow!" She exclaimed, beaming with pride, "this is... amazing! I can't believe it!"

"Wow, Michelle's smiling while still in school? What happened?" Ned asked, and Peter quickly explained while MJ marveled at her good fortune.

"So, are you gonna keep doing it? Being a photographer?" Ned asked.

MJ shrugged, not looking up at him. "I don't know. It was a one-time deal."

"Well, I'm sure Spider-Man wouldn't mind," Peter pointed out, and MJ glanced over her shoulder at him, "I think something can be worked out."

She looked back at him and for a split second, he thought she would kiss him. But MJ was adamant about keeping a steely persona while in school. Of course, Peter understood that she preferred to fly beneath the radar, not showing emotion so as to keep people at a distance. But every so often, she'd show a little something when it came to Peter. That alone made him feel proud. Her attention was hard to capture and even harder to maintain.

"Don't think you can just bribe me, Parker," she retorted, looking back at the paper. She then fiddled around in her pocket, "but that reminds me."

She then pulled out a thick black string with Werewolf's silver fang hanging from it. The metal had been polished and it shone like a new quarter. Peter was in awe as MJ handed the necklace to him.

"I made it last night," she informed him as he sat down, turning the fang over in his hand and feeling the string, "pretty cool, huh?"

"It's awesome, MJ," Peter said, looking at her, "it's definitely your style."

"Ya think?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, "it's almost too badass for me."

"You kidding?" He asked back, almost laughing at her remark, "it practically solidifies your status as the resident badass."

"Someone put too much sugar in your tea," MJ commented as Peter put the necklace on around her neck, "because you're too sweet."

"Ugh, I hate you guys," Ned groaned, shaking his head. Peter smirked and leaned over to read the headline of the Bugle.

**_ Web-Slinger's Wild Week _ **

"Mind if I borrow a page?" Peter asked, and MJ gave him the paper with the stories on it.

There was a picture of Werewolf on the next page, taken when he was on top of the truck at Times Square. There was another picture of Spider-Man, sticking to the side of a building. It must have been from when he sought out MJ after Werewolf crushed the bus at the intersection. The article read about Spider-Man's activities and his efforts in thwarting the "Wolfman", which was what the Daily Bugle was calling Werewolf. They made the lycan out to be a villain, relating to his actions on the bridge and Times Square. The lizard creature was never even mentioned, and authorities were pinning the blame on Werewolf for the destruction at Oscorp. Apparently, no one had gotten a clear enough look at the monster that had attacked, so assumptions were made that it was Werewolf. Peter didn't like that one bit, but the newspaper didn't have the same information he did. Maybe Mr.Stark could find a way to convince them that Werewolf's actions weren't his own, and that he had nothing to do with the Oscorp attack.

Then, the three friends were joined by the decathlon team. As they all seated themselves, Flash snatched the paper from Peter's grasp and looked over it. He appeared unimpressed as he read it over.

"Ha, this wolf dude is such a joke!" Flash mocked, shaking his head and crumpling the paper, "I mean, come on, can't anyone see that it's just a guy in a Bigfoot get-up?"

"I'm sure you'll be saying that when he eats your face off," a kid named Abraham snickered as he reached for the page, flattening it out so he could read it too. The comment earned a glare from Flash, who scowled at Abraham as he read.

"It says here that you took this picture of Spider-Man," Abraham observed, looking at MJ, "how did you get so close?"

"He's not as fast as you think," she replied, and Peter shot her look. He saw her smirking under her bangs, and he rolled his eyes.

"The guy's nothing but an Avenger wannabe," Flash snapped, leaning forward on the table, "he couldn't even beat a loser in a fursuit."

That stung Peter's dignity. He was used to Flash taking shots at him, but he considered any shot against Spider-Man as a personal offense. MJ must've noticed him tense up, and she kicked his ankle from under the table to get his attention. He shot her a look, and she gazed at him, as if telepathically telling him not to get riled up.

"Well, if the Wolfman comes knocking on your door, I'd love to watch you fight him, Flash, since you could obviously do a better job than an actual superhero," MJ remarked, giving an unamused look to Flash, and Peter forced his balled fist to relax.

"I never said _I_ could beat him. But I bet anyone else could," Flash retorted, looking flustered.

"Oh yes, because you're incapable of taking down a-what did you say?- _a loser in a fursuit._ " MJ practically snarled, her tone dripping with disdain. Flash scowled at her, not even attempting to try and repair his wounded pride. A fight with MJ was something nobody wanted.

The conversation carried on, everyone steering away from the paper and talking about the upcoming decathlon competitions. There was another one in Washington D.C, but nobody wanted to go there again after what happened last time. There was one in Boston, which seemed promising. Peter pointed out that he might not be able to go because of his "internship", and like always, everyone gave him heat for that.

"You're the strongest person we have in physics, man. You can't bail again like last time," a girl named Laura argued, and Peter ran a hand through his hair.

"I doubt there's gonna be a lot of physics questions in this tournament," Peter pointed out, and he added weakly, "besides, Flash is good at physics too."

"Flash is good at falling asleep in physics," Ned muttered, getting a laugh from the group.

"Nah, it's no big deal if Parker can't come," MJ said, and everyone turned their attention to her, "we've won without him before. He's not exactly pivotal to the team."

Peter smiled at her, yet he thought her statement was debatable. But he knew she was just covering for him, and he appreciated it. Besides, she was the leader. What she said now was basically law, at least to the team.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Flash admitted, which surprised Peter. But his surprise disappeared when Flash sneered, "no point in betting on someone that never shows anyway."

Peter glared down at his feet, refusing to look up lest he give away his anger. He was getting more and more impatient with Flash. He didn't know why, but he had a really short fuse that day. One more word out of the bully and Peter might go off. But the last thing he wanted was to get into a brawl with Flash, especially when he could easily beat him into a pulp.

"Must you always be an ass?" MJ deadpanned, looking like she was losing her patience too, "seriously, I can feel my IQ dropping with each word you say."

"I'm just pointing out a fact," Flash asked, gesturing to Peter, "you know as well as I do that he's unreliable. In fact, if he was a little more present, Mr.Harrington would have made him leader and not you."

Peter got to his feet at that, his balled fists pressed against the table and his flaming brown eyes glaring down at Flash. Everyone turned to look at him, and Peter was frozen in a state of fury and embarrassment. What the heck was he gonna do? He was going to confront Flash, but now? In the middle of the cafeteria? With the whole team staring at him? He was at a loss for words, even though he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

"Oooh, look at this," taunted Flash, sitting back and crossing his arms, "so defensive. You two a thing now or something?"

Confrontation was not something Peter was good at. At least, not as Peter Parker. As Spider-Man, he could do it all day. But when he was himself, he was as timid as a squirrel. What was he going to do? MJ was looking at him like he'd lost his mind, and Ned seemed shocked by Peter's action. Everyone was waiting for him to do something, but Peter could only stare at Flash in cold silence.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified when a crash, followed by a roar, echoed through the school.


	31. Midtown Mayhem

***MJ's pov***

Students scurried into the cafeteria in a panic, and the hallway was filled with sounds of crashing and glass breaking. Roars echoed through the building, and MJ was instantly filled with dread. All the kids were racing for an exit, leaving everything behind as they fled the terror that was quickly approaching.

"Get out of here," Peter ordered her as teachers attempted to corral the kids.

"What are you gonna do?" MJ questioned, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Something," Peter replied, but she knew that look in his eye. That _something_ was going to be incredibly stupid.

"If you die Peter, I swear to God," she threatened him, letting go of his arm.

MJ watched him take off, throwing himself into the throng of students. He was either remarkably brave or senile. She hoped he'd be smart enough to not get himself killed. But then again, the boy was attracted to danger like a magnet.

As the students flooded down the halls, the fire alarm started to blare. Teachers were trying to calm everyone down, but there was no chance of that. The more ungodly shrieks that rattled the building, the more frightened everybody became. There was nothing that MJ hated more than being shoved around, but she would allow it for this situation.

Suddenly, there was a crash from up ahead, and everyone changed direction, running back toward the cafeteria, back to where Peter was. The crash had come from the main entrance, and all the students were now fleeing from that. MJ ducked into a classroom and got a chair, standing on it so she could look down the hall and see whatever it was that had shown up.

The new creature was tall and exceptionally well-built, with broad, powerful shoulders. But he was struggling to get through the mass of terrified kids, and MJ could've sworn that he was attempting to speak. But when words failed to calm anyone down, he shook his head, breathed deep and thundered at the top of his lungs, _"Move!!!"._

At that, everyone parted like the Red Sea, and MJ was stunned, not believing who it was she was seeing. As the creature strode past, wearing black sport shorts with a blue stripe down the side, his tail waving and triangular ears erect, MJ didn't know whether to be happy about his return or nervous. His blue eyes darted from one student to the next, as if daring them to make a move out of turn. His ears flicked forward to the sounds of shouts coming from down the hall, and took off in a run. Everyone watched him in awe as he shot down the hall and vanished. And MJ's mind was repeating one simple phrase.

_He's alive._

\-------------------

Peter rushed toward his locker, hellbent on grabbing his suit. But it was in the direction that the roars were coming from. He had no idea what he was going to do. He knew who those terrible sounds belonged to, and he wasn't exactly enthusiastic about facing the lycan-lizard again.

Suddenly, it crashed through the wall, stumbling into the hall. Peter slowed to a stop, and after it shook the dust off its scales, it turned slowly. It faced the boy down, and Peter was frozen to the spot. His locker was another ten steps forward, and he couldn't think to get past the lizard without getting roughed up.

But he hadn't backed down from a challenge yet.

The lycan-lizard roared, and Peter rushed it. He went low and slid past it, using his web-shooters to entrap its legs and bring it to the ground. The lizard bellowed as it felt, and Peter ran to his locker. But the reptilian monster was on him in a second, grabbing his shoulder from behind and throwing him backward. The boy fell hard, and rolled out of the way as the lizard attempted to crush him with its long, powerful tail.

"Peter Parker, my boy, I knew who you were when I first met you," the lizard spoke, its tone a sharp yet masculine hiss, "but you as a vigilante is... unprecedented."

"Who the hell are you?" Peter demanded, going into a crouch and silently hating that this thing acted like he knew him.

The lizard didn't answer him, but instead jumped at him with bared teeth. Peter dove under him but got slammed by his tail, and was sent crashing into the lockers, denting several. He tried to pick himself up, but the lizard was too fast. He grabbed Peter by the back of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. He then gripped the web-slinger by the neck and lifted him up against the wall. As Peter tried to desperately free himself, the lizard laughed at his futile attempts as he practically squeezed the life out of the boy as he dragged a short ways into the cafeteria.

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't think I'd come for you," the lycan-lizard said as Peter's face turned blue, his vision getting darker as the scaly creature choke-slammed him on top of a table while still clutching Peter's neck, "you're the only one who can stop me, and you thought I'd let you live."

As Peter's head started to throb painfully, something grabbed the lizard by the shoulders and yanked him back. A hazy face appeared from over the creature's shoulder and it bit down on the nape of his neck, causing him to shriek in pain. He furiously clawed at his attacker, and the stranger forcibly threw him to the side, sending him toppling over tables. Peter gasped for air as his lungs were released, and he rolled to the floor, but was almost immediately pulled to his feet. He was pushed behind whoever it was that saved him and kept steady by a large hand on his shoulder.

"Not the only one," the newcomer said, and Peter's heart lifted when he recognized the voice. As his vision cleared up, he realized who had saved him, his figure large and familiar.

"Go, kid. Get out of here," the lycan added, not looking as he pushed Peter back and urged him to run.

"Werewolf?" Peter groaned, holding his head as it ached.

Werewolf turned his head, his ears pricked and bright blue eyes wide. He was staring at the boy in confusion, then said, "only one person calls me that."

His eyes went even wider when he recognized Peter, his jaw dropping as he gasped, "Spider?"

"Fool!" The lycan-lizard then cried, and Werewolf swiveled his head back to his adversary, standing protectively in front of the disoriented Peter. The lizard's entire shoulder had turn pale, his scales wilting and falling into pieces, and he glared at Werewolf with utter fury.

"I should've known you'd still be alive!" The lizard snarled as the paleness started to extend down his arm.

"You should've known that I'm too stubborn to die!" Werewolf retorted, flattening his ears. 

The lizard flew at Werewolf, and they clashed in a writhing mass. Werewolf won the clash and barreled forward, throwing himself into the floor, crushing the weakening lizard. Peter shook his head and ran past the wrestling lycans, finally getting to his locker. He grabbed his backpack just as Werewolf went sailing by him, and Peter noticed that his shoulder had been scratched, blood running down his arm.

"He's getting weaker!" Werewolf shouted to him, and Peter nodded quickly before running off. 

Peter rounded the corner and dove into a bathroom. There was a huge gaping hole in the floor and all the stalls were bashed in. Since he couldn't stick around, he threw caution to the wind and he changed in one of his quickest times ever; four whole minutes!

He ran out of the bathroom and back into the hallway, and in the distance, he heard sirens. The police must have arrived. But the dents in the lockers and punctures in the wall, as well as craters in the floor, took his attention away. Werewolf was standing over the lycan-lizard, who had grown significantly smaller and was deteriorating by the second. But Werewolf's left shoulder was gushing blood and running down his arm, dripping onto the floor. Peter took a second to wonder why he wasn't healing, but brought himself back when the lizard took a swing at him, but his tail disintegrated before it could land. 

"It's over, Lizard," Werewolf grunted, staring down at the now very-pale lycan-lizard. But the scaly fiend laughed at the remark, looking down the hall.

"So it is..." Lizard conceded, but he gave an evil smile to Werewolf before adding, "for you."

Then, a shot rang out, originating from down the hall, and Werewolf cried out. He had been shot! Peter tried to steady him as he stumbled to the floor, holding onto his side. Footsteps were heard coming down the hall, and Peter looked up to see that an army of cops were running toward the two, a SWAT team leading. Werewolf grimaced as he attempted to regain his feet, blood appearing between his ribs. As Peter struggled to help, he didn't notice Lizard, who's scales were turning to flesh, had slipped away unnoticed.

Peter helped Werewolf to his feet, and the lycan seemed like he knew where he wanted to go. Trying his best to support him, Peter kept him steady as they went to the bathroom, hoping to have Werewolf escape through the hole Lizard had created to break into the school.

"You know, I thought you were dead," Peter said to him as Werewolf leaned against the wall to rest, the police drawing ever closer.

"Yeah, maybe I should've stayed that way, eh?" Werewolf joked as he held his side, wincing as he chuckled to himself.

It was then that Peter noticed that one of his fangs was bare, with no metal cap over it. Did his tooth regrow after being knocked out?

Peter turned to see that the cops had finally caught up to them. The SWAT team was in front, their guns trained on the wounded Werewolf, and Peter spied the sniper that must have shot him. The lycan didn't move to escape though, and they slowed to a stop, as if too frightened to move any closer.

"Stop!" Peter exclaimed, holding his hands out, "he's the good guy! He helped!"

"Stand aside, Spider-Man!" An officer ordered, but the web-slinger refused to even consider the thought.

"No! The bad guy's a lizard! He's in the sewers right now!" Peter explained furiously.

"Don't bother defending me, kid," Werewolf then spoke, and Peter turned to him to see that the lycan's eyes were heavy with defeat as he muttered, "I hurt their friends. They won't listen."

"Stand down!" The same officer commanded, and Werewolf stood straighter against the wall, visibly flinching at the pain in his shoulder.

Peter leapt in front of him to block the SWAT team's aim, and they looked at each other in confusion. Frustration building in him, Peter shouted, "he helped me! Can't you see that?"

The cops didn't know how to react. All Peter knew was that he wasn't about to allow them to arrest his newly returned friend, especially when he wasn't at fault. Thinking quickly, and he shot a web at a light fixture on the ceiling. He pulled hard, bringing it down and showering the officers in sparks, making them all recoil.

"Come on!" Peter ordered, turning to Werewolf, who was staring at him in surprise. The web-slinger took hold of his bulky arm and pulled him around the corner in the direction of the bathroom. The boy stopped at the bathroom door as Werewolf went to the edge of the hole, his exit that would take him to the sewer. He hesitated, then looked at Peter.

"I almost killed you," he pointed out, his ears flat against his head and his gaze full of confusion, "why help me?"

"Because you just saved me. Consider your debt repaid." Peter replied, hearing the officers beginning to regroup and come after them.

Werewolf gave him a tiny, appreciative smile before dropping into the hole. Peter then took off down the hall and rounded two more corners before finding an exit door. He crashed through and shot a web from each arm, leaping into the air. He went around the building and saw that all of the students at Midtown were on the football field. They cheered when they saw him. Peter waved, and spied that the main entrance to the building had been smashed, probably from when Werewolf made his debut.

Man, Peter felt happy knowing he was alive. Better yet, he had saved the web-slinger's life! Peter had distracted cops to help him escape! Did he aid and abet a fugitive? He certainly hoped that's not how it was perceived. Once people knew that it was a lizard and not Werewolf that was bad, maybe he'd catch a break. But that needed to happen soon.

Peter needed to find him again. If he was in the sewers, he was either chasing the lizard or escaping. Peter thought he wouldn't go after the lizard with his injury, but he could be anywhere in the city by now! So that left only one question to be answered.

Where would a wounded werewolf go to hide?


	32. How I Survived

***Werewolf's pov***

_Jack didn't know how, but he somehow survived his rigorous plunge through the drain after being thrown off the ledge. He was dumped into the dark waters of the Hudson, sparkling faintly by the light of the city, and he floated out with the current. He regained enough conscience in time to drag himself to a dock. With immense effort, he hauled himself over and lay limp on the deck. His shoulder was still bleeding heavily from the gash Connors had given him during their confrontation in the sewers, and he was soaked to the skin. His fur color had turned from black to a soft brown, which was his natural pelt. He wasn't too focused on hiding anymore since the whole state was now aware of his existence._

_He stared at the night sky, his eyes hurting from the water and his body wracked with exhaustion. All he wanted to do was sleep off his bad experience, but he knew what nightmares would await him. He wasn't even sure if he could get back to his apartment without being arrested. Then again, it was Connors that had rented that place for him. It might not be safe to return. That kind of pissed him off because he had left his iPod there._

_After a couple minutes of resting, he forced himself to his feet and shook himself dry, sending both water and_ _blood everywhere. As he walked up the dock, he held onto his shoulder, blood continued to run down his arm. He went into a nearby park, crouched against a tree and bled for a few a while until his healing factor finally returned._

Back in the present, Jack stopped at the edge of the drain, looking around. Below him was a few feet of shore with the East River in front. There was nobody around as he sat down, his arm bleeding. It was the same shoulder that Connors had torn into last time, but at least it wasn't that bad this time around. His bullet wound was another story. Bullets usually dissolved when they penetrated his skin, but because his healing factor was impeded, it would sit in his ribs for a while until it kicked back in.

He couldn't believe that Connors had went after Spider-Man while he was still in school. He was just a kid! A teen! Granted, Jack was a kid too, but at least he had the advantage of being a somewhat mature lycan.

Jack shook his head with a sigh. He knew Connors, or Lizard as he liked to be called, was sadistic and crazy and straight up out of his mind with crazy fantasies, but Jack never thought he'd go as far as to hunt down a kid in his own school! What can of psychopath would do that?

He grunted when his shoulder stung, and he cursed Lizard's silver claws. The thought of changing back into a human then entered his mind, but he quickly shook it off. If he transformed, his shoulder and bullet wound would only be more gruesome, and heal far slower than it already was. Jack knew better and took his chances. Though being a wolf made him more vulnerable and more likely to be seen, he knew that no one would think twice about messing with him. It was only his second appearance out in the daylight, and he wasn't necessarily doing any good at the moment. Besides, he _did_ just get shot for trying to help. Who knows what the police might do if they found him just sitting there?

Shaking his head, he swiped his tongue over his new fang, testing its durability. He would have to be careful about it, because if he bit anyone, he might kill them. He knew biting Lizard would change him back into a human, but if he bit an actual person, they would definitely die. Even though he was aware of its lethal effects, he relished its non-metallic taste like his other tooth.

Steeling himself through his pain, he jumped down from the drain and looked around, making sure no one was wandering the shores or walking the popular sidewalk that went along the East River. After making sure all was clear, he went to the water and tried his best to wash his wound. He wasn't a fan of being out in broad daylight, but he didn't want to sit in a drain either. As he tossed water onto his shoulder and ribcage, his ears flicked backward when he heard movement behind him. He turned his head slowly, for whoever it was, he didn't want to scare them. The stranger were leaning casually over the rail, looking at him. The guy was holding a plastic bag in one hand, staring at him with a tipped head.

"You okay, bro?" He asked, and Jack heaved a sigh of relief when he recognized his old friend.

"Davis," Jack acknowledged his friend, his ears flicking forward as he looked at him over his shoulder. His tone was hoarse as he explained, "just ran into some trouble, is all."

"Yeah Russ, I'd say so. The cops are looking everywhere for you, man, after what happened in the Square," Aaron agreed, not moving from his position on the rail.

"Yeah," Jack sighed. Aaron Davis was one of the few individuals who knew of his lycan form, and they had done a few jobs together in the past. He was probably the only person Jack considered an actual friend.

"How's your nephew?" Jack asked, trying to divert Aaron's attention away from his injured shoulder.

"He's okay. The kid's obsessed with Spider-Man. Keeps going on about how he's gonna be him one day," Aaron answered with a shrug, "he was pretty impressed when I told him I met the guy."

Jack chuckled softly, and then he felt the pain start to subside from his arm. He looked at his shoulder and saw that the wounds were beginning to close.

"How's the scientist guy you work for?"

"Me and Connors stopped seeing eye-to-eye," Jack huffed as he watched as one of his scratches healed completely, "had a bit of a falling out recently."

"Damn Russ. Is that why you look so beat up?"

"It's hard to explain, but let's just say that his plans weren't what I agreed to."

"You gonna do something?"

"Not at the moment," the lycan replied with a firm shake of his head, "I'm more or less indisposed."

"Yeah, I'd say so," the small-time criminal said, "should I ask what happened?"

"Best not to," Jack responded, testing his arm as his bullet wound healed, "it's a long story."

"Ha, I'll say," Aaron said, crossing his arms while still holding his plastic bag, "it looked like you got mauled, bro."

"One could say that that's what happened."

Aaron raised an eyebrow, giving Jack a curious look. He shook his head, dismissing the lycan's words.

"Hey, uh, but if you need somewhere to crash, you can come hang at my place," Aaron offered, beginning to back up toward the sidewalk, "but I gotta go pick up Miles from school though, because there was some kinda emergency there, if you don't mind coming along. I think I got a shirt in the car for you to wear."

Jack nodded, appreciative of his friend's hospitality. He got to his feet, giving his legs a stretch, and began to follow him. He shed his wolf form as he leapt up on the rail, and when he jumped over, he had returned to a human by the time he hit the ground. His black shorts were the only ones that conformed to his ever-changing shape, but he would need a shirt, which he hoped Aaron would have. He also hoped he had a pair of shoes to wear too.

Jack then looked up at the sound a familiar whipping sound. Sure enough, Spider-Man was swinging through the skyscrapers. As he whizzed by, Jack wondered if the web-slinger would try to look for him, but Jack thought that maybe he shouldn't. Spider-Man had already worked against the police to help him escape, and it might look bad if a superhero was seen actively hanging out with a presumed bad guy. It might damage his sparkling reputation, and Jack didn't want that. He decided to lay low, out of sight and hoping that Spider-Man wouldn't come searching for him.

"Was your hair always red?" Aaron then asked, and Jack ran a hand through his hair, noticing a few strands were a light auburnish color.

Jack sighed. He wouldn't have the chance to dye it again for a while. Then again, he somewhat missed his red hair. Maybe he'd leave it this time.

He never did care for the blonde.


	33. Back To School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this story pre-written, btw. That's why these updates are coming so fast. Like I said before, this story's old as hell. I'm talking like a month after Homecoming came out. Anyway, hope you're liking it.

***Werewolf's pov***

Aaron drove to Midtown in his car with Jack, and pulled up in front of the school. Aaron had given him a loose long-sleeved shirt to wear and a pair of ill-fitting Nikes, but Jack wasn't one to complain.

Midtown was on high alert. There were cop cars everywhere as well as a number of reporters. Jack forgot that this was where Miles went to school, and he felt nervous just being near the place he had just fought in. But when Aaron asked him to run in and grab Miles because the kid had left his phone at home, his skin crawled. What if Spider-Man was still inside, and what if he was out of his costume and was just a civilian? He wouldn't possibly recognize Jack, would he? Shaking his head, and told himself to be cool, thinking there was no way the kid could know him. Jack focused on Miles, and how he looked forward to seeing him, but that didn't exactly make his anxiety about reentering the school vanish. But either way, Jack took a deep breath and got out of the car.

He managed to slip by the line of cop cars and the surrounding officers, who were distracted with keeping back a flood of pedestrians. Jack figured them to be parents of the kids inside the school. But Jack found an unguarded section of the school and made his way onto the grounds. Luckily, the students were camped out in the football field, being roll-called by teachers to make sure everyone was present.

It was easy to blend in with the kids, since he was about their age. But the fact that he had the beginnings of a beard should have been enough to tip anyone off that he didn't belong. Being a werewolf made his facial grow at an accelerated rate, which was both a blessing and a curse. But thankfully, no one caught on.

As he searched for Miles, he picked up some of the chatter the kids were saying. They were talking, almost excitedly, about some "Wolfman" that they had seen. Was that Jack? Was that what they referred to him as?

"Still think it's just a fursuit?" One kid said teasingly to another.

"Shut up, dude," the other kid retorted.

Jack smirked and continued to look for his friend. But he couldn't find him in the sea of kids, and he hesitated to call out his name. The last thing he wanted to do was literally call attention to himself.

Suddenly, someone grabbed hold of his arm. Before he could turn to look at who it was, he was being roughly dragged away. He didn't fight them because he didn't want to cause a scene, and eventually they broke from the crowd. He was aggressively whirled around and he found himself looking into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

"Why the hell are you here?" Michelle demanded, glaring at him. Jack took a second to collect himself, but before he could say anything, she swept on, "you need to tell me who the hell you are, and don't give me that "I can't tell you" bullshit. Straight answers only."

"It's nice to see you too," Jack said, straightening his ruffled shirt sleeve, "I'm not here to cause trouble-."

"You should've thought of that before you paraded through the school," she retorted heatedly, rolling her eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked, trying to sound confused but knowing full-well that she had figured him out.

"Don't play coy with me, Russell," she warned him, tapping his chest with her finger. Michelle then looked up at his hair, and she raised an eyebrow, "since when do you have red hair?"

Jack rolled his eyes. Why was that the first thing people noticed? "Look, I'm just here to get a friend-."

"Screw that and just tell me, Jack! Or should I say... _Werewolf._ "

"How do you- nevermind, so you know who I am, and that's great and all, but what do you want from that? What do you want from _me_?" Jack questioned, his mind reeling and his skin crawling at her confrontation. While he was impressed by her powers of deduction, Jack wanted nothing more than to get away from the uncomfortable confrontation.

"I want to know what happened in there. Is Spider-Man okay? I saw him swing out but I didn't know..." Michelle questioned, taking a step closer to him.

"Yes, he's fine. It's just... too crazy to explain, okay?" He sighed, shaking his head, "why do you even care?"

"Because he's been thinking that you've been dead this whole time," she pointed out, putting her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, he told me," he grunted, looking away. But then he gave her a peculiar look, quirking his mouth, "but how would you know that? And how do you know my nickname?"

Then it was her turn to look away, and she nervously pushed her bangs out of her eyes as she replied, "Call me a friend of his."

He rolled his eyes, but softened his tone when he said, "look, nobody can know, especially not... Spider-Man. He'll come looking for me and he just... he shouldn't."

"What's so bad about that?"

"If it hasn't occurred to you, I'm not exactly a good guy."

"Says the one that just helped him."

"Yeah, but I've also tried to kill him. I even tossed him off a building!" Jack retorted, throwing his hand to the side, "Has he told you that?"

They were silent for a moment, neither saying anything. It was awkward, and both were uncomfortable. Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave her a knowing look.

"Could you just... not say anything to him, at least not yet?" He pleaded with her, "Just give me some time?"

"To what? Run away?" She asked back, crossing her arms.

"No, I just don't want him... chasing me. I want to meet him on my own terms, but I just need time to-."

"Cool it, Teen Wolf, I'll give you until the end of the day," she said, punching him lightly in the shoulder, "then all bets are off, got it?"

Jack rolled his eyes, giving her a cheeky smile. Michelle took a step back, and refused to meet his eye. He leaned forward, bending slightly to make her look at him. She, who wasn't used to be shorter than someone, reluctantly looked up at him. He was maybe two inches taller than her, and as they stood, he noticed her string necklace. Upon closer inspection, he realized that she was wearing a fang, _his_ fang, looking bright and polished.

"Where did you get that, Michelle?" He then asked her, gesturing to the necklace with a sly smile. She laughed, looking embarrassed, and held it in her fingers, turning it over.

"Uh, I made it," she replied, and he smirked, knowing that couldn't be wholly true. Sure, the string had been added, but Jack knew what his own tooth looked like. But he couldn't fathom how Michelle had ended up with it. Last he saw of it, he had dropped the thing back in the sewers.

"It's just... very peculiar," he said, slightly enjoying watching so stoic a person blush, "I've got one just like it, you see."

"Well how about that," Michelle replied flatly, turning and walking back at the crowd of students. Parents were starting to filter in and grab their kids, while some were pulled away by cops to be interviewed.

He quickly caught up to her, and they walked side by side back into the crowd. He looked around, and finally, he spotted Miles laughing in the middle of a group of kids. He took hold of Michelle's arm, stopping her, and she gave him an annoyed look.

"Let Spider-Man know that I'll find him," Jack stated firmly, not letting go of her arm, "Since you’re his... friend."

"Try not to let your jealousy show," she retorted, pulling her arm away. Jack stared at her for moment, making sure that what she said was true and that she wouldn't tell. She met his gaze without flinching.

"I really did throw him off a building, you know," Jack said, cracking a smile and staring her right in the eye.

"And I really don't care," Michelle responded, pulling her arm away before becoming enveloped in the crowd.


	34. Careful

Peter didn't go back to school that day, but instead did some light investigating. While he wanted to know where Werewolf had gone, he also wanted to know where "Lizard", as Werewolf had called him, had escaped to. He was obviously a person, and Peter was so close to seeing who he was before Werewolf got shot. So, he went down into the sewers that lay under the school and had a look around. While Lizard was nowhere to be found, Peter did happen upon a ripped up lab coat from Oscorp. He wondered if there was a connection. He went above ground and stashed it in an alley before following a particular drain that went into the East River. But as he swung by, he found nothing but a couple of pedestrians, one of them shirtless weirdly.

He was about to scan them just out of curiosity before he was interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone. He landed on top of a building and fumbled around for his phone. He lifted his mask over his mouth and answered it, trying to sound casual.

"What up, May?"

"Peter! Are you okay?!" It was Aunt May, sounding anxious and very concerned. 

"Woah, hey, I'm okay," Peter said, pacing the roof, "I'm fine, there's nothing to worry about."

"I'll say! When I heard that wolf thing attacked the school, I assumed you'd fought it. But when you didn't call-."

"He didn't attack the- whatever, it's fine and I'll be home soon. I just need to do some things," Peter said, frustrated that once again Werewolf was being blamed for something that wasn't his fault.

"Peter, Tony's here," May then said, her voice now calm, and Peter's blood ran cold. Why would Mr.Stark be at his house? Was his mentor worried about him? Peter thought he was overseas! Did he know about the incident at school? Was he here because of that?

"Okay, I'll be home in a few," Peter replied, trying to keep up his casual air before hanging up. Shaking his head to dispel anxiety-inducing thoughts, Peter put his phone away and webbed up into the buildings. He didn't want to go home just yet, because there was still so much for him to do, but he didn't want to keep Mr.Stark waiting.

As he swung, he received a text message from MJ. Karen read it for him, and MJ told him that she had big news and needed to see him. He responded with that he'd see her later that night, because he was going to talk Mr.Stark. He left the Manhattan area and eventually got to his neighborhood. Just like every other night, he went low on the roofs and slipped through his window. He landed in his room and quickly changed, throwing on a science pun t-shirt, jeans, and a jacket, because the apartment was chilly that day.

He walked into the kitchen and saw Mr.Stark and Aunt May talking. They stopped upon his entry, and Tony gave him a smile.

"Hey kid!" He greeted with a smile, and Peter couldn't tell whether he was faking it or not, "how was school today?"

"Uh, eventful," Peter stammered, not sure if the billionaire superhero was being sarcastic with him, "a lot went down."

"Clearly. Let's go talk, big guy," Tony said, and he led Peter back to his room, leaving May alone in the kitchen.

They sat on his bed, and Peter couldn't wait. He felt like he knew what Tony was going to say, so before he could, Peter launched into a story about the incident. He declared Werewolf's innocence and told of Lizard's villainy, on how he had hunted Peter down after discovering his identity. Tony listened quietly, his face unchanging as Peter ranted, the boy anxiously pacing the room as he spoke. When he finished telling his tale, he stood in front of Tony expectantly, hands on his hips, awaiting his mentor's response.

"You know, I'm trying this thing where you handle your own bad guys. You know, taking the training wheels off, that kind of deal," Tony began, and Peter sat down beside him, "so I'm just going to ignore the fact that a mutant lizard knows who you are and tracked you down in your own school, just for now, okay?"

"So, why are you here then?" Peter asked, confused on Tony's motives. He had thought the Avenger had come to scold him or something, but if that wasn't it, what did he want?

"I'm here because of a certain someone I've been informed of," he replied, giving Peter a sly grin, "Someone special that has entered your life?"

Peter went red, and he rubbed the back of his neck, stammering, "I, uh, don't know who you mean."

"Come on, kid, your A.I. told me everything," Tony said with a wave of his hand, "but I want to know from you. Who is she?"

 _Come on, Karen,_ Peter thought inwardly. He would have a few words with her later.

"Well, her name's MJ, and she's great, Mr.Stark, so great that words don't do her justice," Peter explained dreamily, "she's smart, funny, and loves to read."

"Sounds like the total package."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"But you do know what this means, right?" Tony then asked him, and Peter gave his mentor a quizzical look, "now that your baddie knows who you are, it puts people in danger. Trust me, I know. First, he attacks your school, then your home, and then everybody you care about."

"It won't come to that."

"It doesn't matter, Pete. The point is, you have to be careful. I know you like this girl, but just consider if you're willing to put her danger. Hell, you put your entire school in danger when this lizard thing found out who you were!"

"And who are you to talk?" Peter suddenly snapped, maybe a little too harshly, "The whole world knows who you are! Your house got blown up because you told a terrorist where you lived!"

"But that was on me, and I almost lost everything because of that recklessness. I just don't want the same to happen to you."

"So, what are you telling me to do? Distance myself?"

"Listen Underoos, I'm not telling you to _do_ anything. It's your life, and if you're gonna be with this chick, be ready to protect her with everything you've got. If this lizard knows you, it will come to know her too. Be ready for that."

Peter hung his head, knowing deep down that the Avenger was right. Tony took hold of Peter's shoulder and gave it a shake, but it didn't lighten the boy's heart. He had just earned MJ's affection, and the thought of not being with her drove a dagger through his heart. It was like being clawed by Werewolf all over again.

Tony sighed, feeling empathy for his his young apprentice. Giving his shoulder one last comforting shake, he said, "It's just something to keep in mind. But when it comes to this whole lizard thing, I have some recordings from your suit from when you confronted the thing at Oscorp. I'll have the FBI on the lookout for it."

"But what about Werewolf? Can you take the heat off him?"

"I'll do what I can. The NYPD are still pissed at him for what happened in Times Square, but I'll find a way to work them over, like maybe a sizable donation, eh?" Tony then got up from Peter's bed and went over to the door. As he grabbed the handle, he turned to look at his young protege, "Do you love her?"

"W-what?" Peter stammered, caught off-guard by Tony's question. How could he answer a thing like that? He had only been officially with her for just a few days. It seemed like it was way to soon to even be thinking about that. Besides, how would he even know? What did love even feel like? 

"Hmm, that's what I thought," Tony laughed before exiting the room.

But the question still rang in Peter's mind, echoing through his head.

Did he love MJ?


	35. Killing Me Softly

***MJ's pov***

Peter never did get back to MJ for the rest of the day, and that bothered her slightly. He had said that he was going to meet Tony Stark, but she didn't think that meeting would last the whole day. She had important news to share with him, since Jack had now run out of time. She wanted to tell Peter everything, even how she'd met Jack at school. But she couldn't do that _if Peter wasn't here._

Hanging out in her library hideout, she didn't like the feeling of waiting around for him to call. MJ didn't like the feeling of having to worry. So, she kept herself from thinking anything of it, focusing instead on her book. The night was cool, and she snuggled in a blanket, enjoying the Fall weather. The cold months were her favorite.

Then, MJ thought she heard a thud from behind her, on a distant part of the roof. At first, she figured it to be Peter finally coming to see her. But the footsteps that drew closer were too loud and heavy, not at all like the dainty little steps Peter took. But there was a familiarity to the footsteps, and she watched as a figure came into view, balancing on the raised ledge of the building like a tightrope walker. She recognized the colossal werewolf, and sat up.

Jack didn't immediately see her, focusing too hard on trying to keep his balance. He was humming to himself in a whimsical, almost cute kind of way. For a werewolf, he didn't fit the normal stereotype that surrounded the mythological shapeshifter. He wasn't always angry, and while he might have some destructive tendencies, they weren't a dominating part of his personality. Werewolves were supposedly terrifying creatures with an insatiable bloodlust, ferocious tempers and elusive natures. Jack was essentially a real-life cryptid.

And here he was, singing show tunes to himself.

She didn't know how long she had been watching him when he finally saw her. He froze, his foot hanging over the edge and his tail waving. He gave her an awkward, toothy smile, and she saw the silver glint of his one metal fang. His fur was black with tinges of white on his muzzle, and he was wearing only what looked like to be some torn up jeans. MJ wondered if that particular fabric was uncomfortable against his fur. A pair of white earbuds dangled from his pricked ears, plugged into an iPod that was held inside a sleeve wrapped around his upper arm.

"Evening," Jack greeted with a nod of his head, taking one of his earbuds out, "This building occupied?"

"If you need to practice your circus act, don't mind me," MJ replied, looking back down at her book. He chuckled, the noise coming from deep within his throat, and he jumped down from the ledge.

"What are you even doing?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he sat down on the ground across from her, crossing his furry legs.

"Well, I _was_ looking for your boy," he replied, tipping his head as he looked at her, leaning against the ledge wall, "but he doesn't seem to be out tonight. I've stopped like four hold-ups and he hasn't made an appearance. I mean, I didn't want him searching for me, but I didn't want him avoiding me either, you know?"

"That makes two of us," MJ muttered under her breath, turning the page.

There was a beat of awkward silence before Jack asked, "We're friends, aren't we?"

She rolled her eyes and closed her book, giving up on the idea of finishing her current chapter as long as she had company. She took a second to think over his question, though. It's not that she didn't like Jack. To be perfectly honest, she was quite fond of him and his somewhat snarky yet optimistic attitude. From their few interactions, she knew he was one of those genuinely nice people, a breed of people MJ had an appreciation for, no pun intended. He was okay company too, and she wasn't that put off by the fact that he was a werewolf. But as good of a person as he was, Jack wasn't who she wanted to truly hang out with.

He wasn't Peter.

Either way, MJ didn't mind enduring Jack's company. If he wanted to hang out, she would let him. The guy probably didn't have a lot of friends at the moment, and if allowing him to chill with her comforted him, then so be it. She didn't see it as a "killing me softly" kind of situation. He had saved her life after all. She owed him for that.

"I guess we are. You never leave me alone," she said jokingly, and he nodded, grinning.

"But you don't... not like me, do you?" He was saying it with such apprehensiveness that it was almost adorable. Did he really care that much if she liked him or not?

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Russell," MJ said, looking at him thoughtfully.

He looked back at her, his blue eyes practically glowing against his dark fur. He glanced around and looked at her little campsite, which consisted of a blanket and a couple pillows, and a small, green plastic lantern she'd brought that night. He angled his ears toward her radio, which had just started to play "You Make Me Feel So Young" by Frank Sinatra.

"You like Sinatra, eh?" Jack asked. He was doing the same thing he did the first time they met at the bus stop; looking for conversation.

"Gee, what gave it away?"

"Are you sarcastic to everyone, or is it just to me?"

"Everyone, but particularly you."

"Why though?"

"Because it keeps annoying people away, but it has yet to send you running for the hills unfortunately."

He threw his head back in laughter, and his reaction garnered a laugh from her as well. In that moment, MJ forgot about waiting for Peter. Maybe he was busy and couldn't see her. She understood that at least. The life of a superhero tended to be hectic. Sure, a little heads up would've been nice, but she had no right to demand that from him. They had never solidified what they were yet. Were they dating? Was she supposed to care about what he did?

"So, you and Spider-Man," Jack began, bringing MJ out of her thoughts, "I take it you go to school with him? At Midtown?"

"Yeah, I do," MJ replied with a subtle nod, "He's a nice guy."

"You like him, eh?"

"What gives you that idea?"

"The blush tipped me off."

She refused to acknowledge him any further on the subject, instead tossing her bangs in front of her face. She didn't like him reading her emotions. She didn't like _anyone_ reading her emotions, actually. She was Michelle Jones, excellent at reading people but impossible to read herself. Her persona was encased in steel, heavily layered with sarcasm and contempt, with a weaponized wit she used as a broom to beat back anyone who dared to get too close.

Only a few people had survived the broom, and this good-natured werewolf was fighting to get into that exclusive club.

Jack grinned at her action, continuing, "I saw him, you know. Out of uniform. Is he as young as he looks?"

"How old are you in comparison? Thirty?"

"No," he laughed, shaking his head, "I'm like on the verge of seventeen."

"What sixteen year-old has a beard?"

"It's not _that_ uncommon."

"Maybe not for a werewolf."

He stuck his tongue out at her, and the action alone was enough to force another laugh from MJ. Maybe she did actually like Jack, and he wasn't just a charming thorn in her side. Hell, he had stuck around when he could be off doing better things. Jack may not have been Peter, but she was not at all against him being here with her. She had been iffy at first, sure, but now she had no complaints.

They talked for maybe an hour, and MJ struggled to open up to him at first. Granted, she was more on-guard with him than she had been with Peter. But despite her being vague about herself, he had absolutely no problem talking about himself. He rambled on for ten minutes about his beloved playlist, which consisted of both modern hip hop or, as he put it, "anything with a sick beat drop", and he had a love for orchestral scores. Apparently, he liked fighting to a soundtrack, and desired for some of those wireless earbuds because sometimes he'd get tangled up.

But gradually as the conversation went on, MJ loosened up, revealing her love of reading and drawing. She learned that both of them enjoyed old black-and-white movies, and that he was particularly fond of musicals, Singin' In The Rain being his absolute favorite. He was a literal, overly excited puppy when it came to his interests. He was a good talker, MJ gave him that much, and he knew how to hold a conversation. It was almost fun listening to him.

Just out of curiosity, she asked why he had gone ultra bad at the bridge and Times Square. He was a little hesitant at first, and he looked away, guilt evident in his eyes. He took a deep breath and looked at her hard.

"First things first: what happened back there wasn't me. That was something else entirely," Jack explained with a wave of his hand, "Look, before I was just a kid trying to survive, doing not-so-legal things so I wouldn't end up on the street. I didn't want to be a bad guy, not even a little bit, but desperate times call for desperate measures, ya know?"

MJ waited for him to go on. He seemed so conflicted, and she almost felt bad for him. He really was alone. She had forgotten that he was her age, a teen who was struggling to keep up with a tumultuous life. She never took into account what made him go bad in the first place.

"Honestly Michelle, everything's kinda gone to shit the last few days," Jack began with a dry laugh, flattening his ears against his head, "My life sucks, pretty much."

"But you don't need to keep letting it," MJ retorted, folding her arms, "So you've had a rough streak. You can bounce back."

"Literally everyone in this city hates me, all because of something I couldn't control," he pointed out with a tip of his head, "How does one bounce back from that, exactly?"

Jack had a point there. She wanted to know who had controlled him, who had manipulated him to do the terrible things he had done. But he was so distressed that she didn't want to push him by asking.

"Save it somehow," MJ suggested, and he gave her a quizzical look, quirking his mouth, "Save the city."

"Gee, I might have to sooner or later," he mumbled nonchalantly, running his metal-clawed fingers over his ears.

They sat in silence, MJ at a loss for words. Jack was having a major crisis of confidence, and it was understandable. It was hard to like who you were when no one else did. She had had that trouble herself before Peter noticed her. But Jack was being blamed for so much, and some of it not even being his fault. She had saw on the news that Jack had gotten blamed for the incident at the school. While she didn't know what had happened, she knew he had helped Peter and was most likely innocent.

Jack smirked, then looked around, saying," Look, I gotta go, just in case Spider-Man's swinging around here somewhere."

MJ checked the time and saw that it was almost ten. Her sister would be off from work soon to take her home. Jack went to the ledge and jumped up, but looked back at her, "I'll see you around, okay?"

"With your track record, I don't think I have a choice, do I?" MJ replied with a smirk. He grinned and put his earbuds back in, but before he could tap his iPod, she called out to him.

"Just so you know, not everyone in the city hates you," she told him, smiling reassuringly. "You're not... completely alone."

He nodded to her, appreciative of her assurance, and hit his iPod to start playing his music. He crouched low and catapulted himself into the air. For a werewolf, he had a hell of a vertical, easily clearing the street below to the roof of the next building.

Yeah, maybe Jack wasn't the person MJ intended to hang out with, but he was better than she gave him credit for. She actually saw why Peter liked him too. He was honest and down to earth, and most definitely not the mindless killing machine the media made him out to be.

If anything, he was a stray dog, looking for a bone to keep him busy. MJ silently wished that Jack would find Peter, and that the web-slinger could finally turn him good _for_ good. He'd make an interesting addition the world's rising number of heroes.

She just hoped the police wouldn't shoot him first.


	36. A Walk With Werewolf

Peter stayed home after talking to Mr.Stark. He just didn't have the energy to go out and fight crime. He was working over what the billionaire Avenger had said. Mr.Stark hadn't outright said that he shouldn't be with MJ, but he had implied vaguely that maybe being with her wasn't the safest idea. She could easily be put in danger, and the last thing Peter wanted was to be responsible for not be able to protect her. He'd never forgive himself.

But what was he going to do? If he broke up- God, how could he think that?- if he broke up with MJ, she'd be blindsided. And his explanation would be weak as hell, and there was no way she would buy it. But they hadn't really talked about their relationship in the first place, and Peter didn't really know what they were. But he didn't doubt that she would be upset. He'd be lucky if he made it out of the conversation alive.

The next morning, school was cancelled, due to destruction that was caused due to Werewolf, Lizard, and himself. Damage Control was on the scene to clean things up. Peter didn't know whether that was a lucky break or not, because he still had no idea what he was going to say. He was in a dejected mood from the minute he woke up. Even when he went out as Spider-Man, he couldn't enjoy it like other times. Even as he captured a car thief and stopped a burglary, he never even cracked a smile.

Around five, he was hanging upside down off a balcony. His temperament hadn't improved and he was bored out of his mind, but he couldn't come up with the energy to do anything.

**What's wrong, Peter?**

"Nothing, Karen," Peter sighed, walking around under the balcony.

**Doesn't seem like nothing. You've been dreary all day.**

"I've just got a lot on my mind," he said, not really wanting to go into detail about his moral debacle.

**Is this about MJ?**

"Uh, yeah. Which reminds me, did you tell Mr.Stark about her and I?" Peter questioned.

**He asked for an assessment on your weekly activity. I only told him that you'd been talking to someone.**

"Define "talking to someone" for me," he said in an investigative manner, "Like, how much did you actually tell him?"

**I told him that you liked her, and that you're blood pressure always skyrocketed when you saw her, and that your heart rate picked up-.**

"Alright, alright," Peter said, waving his hand dismissively, "I was just curious."

**Well, it's true. She's special, isn't she? It only makes sense.**

"Yeah, she's- she's special..." Peter said, shaking his head as he climbed back up to the roof.

He tried to go for a swing to get his mind off MJ, but she wouldn't leave his thoughts. There was nothing he could do to make himself stop thinking about her, and at one point, he found himself in front of the Broadway Cafe, her favorite coffee shop in Soho. He scanned the inside and found MJ within. He wrestled with the idea about seeing her, but he couldn't seem to convince himself.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and a chill had settled over the city. As the days got colder, they also got shorter. It wasn't even six and it was already dark. Two police helicopters circled the buildings, searchlights on and probing the rooftops. Sirens wailed in the distant, and Peter wondered if they were chasing something. Maybe a good cop chase was what he needed to get his mind off things.

Suddenly, something heavy landed behind him, and Peter whirled around to see Werewolf. A smile was plastered on his face, and he seemed overjoyed to see Peter. There was a fiery light in his shining blue eyes and he appeared to be teeming with adrenaline.

"Finally! I've been looking everywhere for you, Spider!" He said ecstatically, his ears flipping forward as he panted. He and Peter fistbumped, and Peter could honestly say he was relieved to see the lycan. For the first time that day, the web-slinger felt himself smile.

"Glad to see you're okay, man," Peter said, folding his arms, "Those sirens wouldn't be directed at you, would they?"

"I think they may have spotted me," Werewolf replied with a shrug, "But I didn't do anything wrong, if that's what you're wondering."

Peter nodded, and he turned to look back at the coffee shop. MJ was standing outside now, looking up at him and Werewolf. She waved to them, and Werewolf waved back. But Peter was frozen, caught between acknowledging and ignoring her. He didn't know what the right thing to do was. But Werewolf decided for him when he picked up his wrist and waved it back and forth for him.

"Spider got your tongue, eh?" Werewolf joked, letting his hand down. Peter watched as MJ walked down the street, each footstep like a shot to his heart.

"Someone's smitten, huh?" The lycan asked with a teasing smile, "She's cool, you know. I met her."

Peter looked over to him. "You met her?"

"Yeah, last night. She's really neat," he said with a nod.

 _Why didn't she tell me?_ Peter thought to himself. He looked back down the street, wondering why she never let him know that she had met with Werewolf.

"Anyway, I want to do something with you," Werewolf went on, and Peter swiveled back to him, "I'm going after Lizard in his hideout, but I don't think I can take him alone."

"You want me to come with you?"

"I think it'd be best, if you don't mind. I'll tell you everything I know on the way," he said, but then he looked away, down at his feet, "If you're still mad at me about almost killing you, I can do it on my-."

"Stop thinking about that," Peter cut him off, "I'll go with you, okay? We'll take him together."

Werewolf gave him a relieved smile. He looked off the building, glancing down at the road and down the street. People were starting to stop on the sidewalk and watch them, their phones out to take pictures.

"I'll get you back in time for you to see your girl," Werewolf said with a wink, and he jumped down off the building. The nearby pedestrians scrambled away, probably thinking he was going to attack them. But he looked back up at Peter, and said, "It'll be fun! Let's go!"

Peter jumped and landed in front of him. He pointed at the lycan, saying, "She's not my girl."

"Yes, and I'm not a 6'8 dog standing in the middle of the street," Werewolf said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he walked away. He went over to a manhole and pulled it up, continuing, "I have no interest in your love life, but do me a favor and don't lie to me about it."

He let Peter jump into the drain first, and a car honked loudly at Werewolf as it screeched to a stop. The lycan roared at it then slowly lowered himself into the manhole. He pulled the cover back into place, and he splashed into the water. He shook out his fur, patting his dark, torn trousers.

"You wouldn't believe the looks I've just gotten," Werewolf said as they started to walk, a tone of defeat in his voice, "I think they've lost some respect for you by being with me."

"Don't worry. I've got everything worked out for you," Peter pointed out with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You'll be back in everyone's good graces soon enough."

"But why? I just don't understand. How can you possibly want to help me? I've almost killed you so many times!"

"Against your will."

"But I threw you off a building, and my mind was right as rain then!"

"And I didn't take it personally," Peter then whirled in front of him, stopping the lycan in his tracks. Werewolf watched him attentively as the web-slinger began to rant.

"Look, Werewolf, I'm not holding anything you did in the past against you. We're working together now and that's all that matters."

"But I'm a monster-."

"A monster doesn't save innocent people from a burning building. A monster doesn't save a girl from getting mugged in the middle of the night. A monster doesn't save people, Wolf, and you're not a monster."

Werewolf hung his head, still looking dejected. Peter didn't know what to say to make him feel better. In what could only be described as frustration, he took his mask off, and Werewolf's ears pricked forward.

"My name's Peter Parker, okay? I'm a high schooler whose gone toe-to-toe with Captain America. I've screwed up loads of times and one of them involved the destruction of my school and another was a ferry-."

"That was you?"

"-What I'm saying is," Peter swept on, ignoring the question, "no one's perfect, not even me. We all mess up, but we gotta move on. I'm willing to put all this behind me. Are you?"

Peter stuck out his hand. An allegiance with Werewolf would be most beneficial, and if they were partners, there was no limit to what they could do. He and Werewolf would definitely complement each other well, and New York City would be undoubtedly safer. Maybe Mr.Stark would even approve? After all, he worked better with Colonel Rhodes. Why shouldn't Peter have an accomplice of his own?

Werewolf gave him a peculiar look, unsure about the offer. But, he eventually gave Peter an appreciative smile, and he took Peter's hand in his significantly larger one, and they shook on it.

"What does this make us? Partners?" Werewolf asked with a grin.

"I think this makes you my sidekick," Peter said with a smirk, turning around and putting his mask back on. Werewolf guffawed loudly behind him, arguing that it might be the other way around.

They splashed through the drain in silence, only broken once when Werewolf felt something touch his foot, screamed, and jumped into Peter's arms. He seemed to have the sewer system memorized by heart, and he took different turns without so much as a glance in the other direction. Peter followed him closely, mostly because he felt comforted by the lycan's imposing size.

"My name's Jack, by the way," Werewolf then said, taking Peter by surprise, "Jack Russell, and yes, like the dog. Ha ha, very funny."

"Yeah, I kinda know," Peter replied awkwardly, having already done an extensive background check on him. That would be hard to explain.

"I take it Michelle finally told you," Jack said, bobbing his head, "I never asked her about it last night because I just figured she had."

"What's all this "last night" stuff about anyway?" Peter asked, crossing his arms.

"What about it?" He asked back, quirking his mouth, "We just hung out."

"But she knew who you were?"

"Did she not tell you?"

Peter looked away, frowning hard. He was getting that uncomfortable feeling again. He was jealous of Jack. He was jealous that the lycan had hung out with MJ, and he was upset that she never even told him. Peter should have just sucked it up and gone to see her when he had the chance. He should never have just ghosted her. It was a stupid thing to do. What if MJ liked Jack now? Had Peter lost her already?

"Then, how do you know already if it wasn't through her?" Jack pressed, sounding puzzled.

"I, uh, sort of did a, um, background check... on you," Peter explained slowly, and Jack stuck up his head in disbelief, stopping in his tracks. He slowly turned around, looking baffled.

"A background check? When? What for?" The lycan questioned, sounding more curious than offended as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Peter was thankful for his mask, though he'd reckon that his face was about the same color as it. Jack didn't take his eyes off him, and Peter felt like his bright blue gaze was piercing his brain, looking at his very thoughts. This would be the most awkward thing Peter would ever have to explain, next to when he had to tell Aunt May he was Spider-Man.

After clearing his throat, Peter slowly explained what his motives were, and why he went searching through Jack's life. The lycan's gaze was unwavering, and his expression didn't change as he listened. Peter described vaguely that he may have been jealous of Jack at Dr.Connor's Oscorp lab and that's what sent him on his search. When he finished, Jack stood in silence, dumbfounded. Then, he threw his head back and laughed aloud.

"You were _jealous_ of me?!" Jack asked in disbelief through bouts of laughter, "You dug up my history because you thought I was making a move?"

"See it my way, okay? You would've done the same thing!"

"Ha, that's a joke. I only thought you liked her, but now that I know it's love, it makes more sense."

"It's not... love," Peter stated firmly, but not entirely believing his own words.

"What did I say about lying about your love life?" Jack asked, tipping his head and snorting, "Nobody does a background check on someone because they _don't_ feel threatened. Just tell her, bro! I'm pretty sure she feels the same!"

Peter eyes went wide at that. "Wait, why do you think that?"

"I merely mentioned "Spider-Man" and she turned the color of your suit," The lycan answered, gesturing to him, "Seriously, you have to get on that, Spider."

He then turned and continued to walk. Peter struggled to keep up with his stride, but he couldn't get his words out of his head. Could MJ possibly feel the same way about Peter? What was Peter feeling, anyway? He couldn't make himself believe that he was in love with MJ, but if Mr.Stark _and_ Jack both said he was, then it had to be of some chance. He would have to tell her. Maybe not the love part, since that might be seen as coming on too strong, but definitely tell her what he felt for her, what he _for sure_ felt for her. If this was what love felt like, then there was no way he was letting it go.

"So, just to be clear, you don't like her, right?" Peter clarified. He wanted to make sure he wouldn't have to contend with Jack. If he remembered what he looked like in his human form correctly, Peter would have already lost.

"Of course I like her, just not in that way," Jack replied with a glance over his shoulder, "I can't believe you were jealous, though. I mean, I wasn't even flirting with her before, but if you'd like me to..." He finished the statement with a flirty growl, and Peter lightly punched his shoulder, which turned the growl into a laugh. 

After this, Peter would definitely be seeing about a girl.


	37. The Beginning of the End

As they walked, Jack told him everything. He said that the Lizard was Dr.Curt Connors, a scientist at Oscorp. Peter knew him because he had solved his equation on Midtown's field trip. Jack said that had actually cleared up Connors' problem with the serum he was trying to concoct to turn himself into a lycan. He was initially going for a wolf look, but ended up using too much reptilian DNA, hence the Lizard was born. Jack explained that he couldn't outright infect the scientist straightforward because then he'd suffer the full moon effects. Connors wanted a lycan without flaws.

"But his plan is to use this Tech-1 Disperser to turn everyone in New York City into a lycan?" Peter asked after Jack finished telling his tale.

Jack nodded, "Yup, but the serum he's using is going to make everyone lizards. But I think he's beyond caring about such a menial thing by now."

Suddenly, he stopped, and his held his arm out to halt Peter. The web-slinger stood beside him, looking around Jack's huge figure. They had come to the hub of the sewer system, and there was a waterfall beside it. It was a makeshift lab, with instruments everywhere and notebooks spread out over the tables. A large machine lay against a wall covered with papers, drawings, and equations. There was a trail of dried blood that ran in between the tables and ended at the waterfall. A deep growl came from Jack, and Peter saw his ears flick backward. Someone was moving within the lab, and Jack hunched his shoulders, his tail thrashing.

Then, Dr.Connors appeared, wearing a ragged lab coat, white shirt and dark trousers, his blonde hair stringy and disheveled. Peter wondered how many coats he had, because he remembered that he left a similar looking coat in a dumpster. Had Connors somehow gotten it back?

"So, you've teamed up against me," Dr.Connors said, his voice haggard and his skin a sickly green, "I should've known as much."

"It ends here, Connors," Jack snarled, baring his teeth.

"And I assume if I don't come quietly, you'll rip out my throat?" The scientist mused, laughing dryly.

"I'm gonna do that no matter what you do," Jack replied, flexing his claws.

Peter put a steadying hand on Jack's tense arm, which was rippling with tension. He didn't want the lycan to kill Connors. Peter wanted to take him in alive so he could prove that Jack was innocent in all the crimes that had been set against him.

"We need him alive, Jack," Peter whispered.

Jack acknowledged him with a flick of an ear, but he kept his blue eyes trained on Connors. He took a step forward, but Peter pulled on his arm warningly.

"Come now, Jack, you can't think to kill me," Dr.Connors said, walking toward one of the tables, picking up a vial of vibrant green liquid, "After all I've done for you?"

"You brainwashed me, you sabotaged me, you experimented on me, and you expect me to thank you for that?" Jack snapped, his eyes flaming with growing rage.

The scientist paid no attention to Jack's fury, and he opened a sleek wooden box. He gazed at his contents before setting down his vial and reaching inside.

"No, my boy, I don't expect anything from you," Dr.Connors said. There was some clicking and rotating, and he looked up at Peter and Jack, "But you being here has somewhat accelerated my plans."

He then held up a shiny revolver, pointing it directly at Jack, but aimed his next words at Peter, "He's more of a threat to me than you are, Peter. Consider yourself lucky that these bullets weren't meant for you."

He then fired, the shot echoing loudly through the drain. Jack recoiled with a cry, and he clutched his chest as he fell down. In the same instant, Connors reached for the vial and stabbed it into his arm. He then began to change, growing in size and scales beginning to cover his body. A long tail appeared from behind him and he tore out of his clothes, and he roared as he turned into Lizard.

Peter knelt down next to Jack. He had been shot in the chest, between his shoulder and collarbone. But Jack was in anguish, and the wound refused to heal instantaneously like always. Peter looked back at Connors, who was now Lizard, and saw that he was putting the gun and two large canisters in a satchel, throwing the bag over his shoulder. He grabbed the machine off the wall and lifted it over his shoulder, carrying it away.

"I had only enough money for two bullets, Jack!" Connors called as he left the lab and disappeared into the sewer tunnel, "If you follow me, the next one's going in your head!"

"Damn silver bullets," Jack cursed, grimacing, "What a cheat."

"What's wrong? Can't you heal?" Peter asked, worrying for his friend as the wound bled.

"Not while the bullet's still in me, which it is," the lycan answered, rolling his side, "I won't heal. I might as well be human."

"Then you can't go. I'll take Connors alone," Peter said firmly.

"Like hell you will," Jack snarled as he struggled to pull himself to his feet, "If anyone's gonna take that bastard down, it's gonna be me."

"But-."

"Shut it, Spider. We're both going after him," Jack snapped, and he began to walk down the drain, blood still streaming from his injury and clotting in his dark fur. He shook his head and snorted, Peter running after him.

"What if you die?" Peter questioned him, and the lycan shrugged his shoulders.

"If it's my time to go, then so be it. Better me than the whole city."

Peter was impressed with his initiative. He was willing to risk his life for a city that had done nothing but hate him. It was very noble of him, and Peter patted Jack's arm.

"Now you're starting to sound like a hero."


	38. Saving New York Pt.1

The two didn't have to go a long way. Connors had torn through a sidewalk grate and was walking down the street. Vehicles were pulling off to the side or backing up, resulting in multiple crashes. Peter sprang through the grate and Jack jumped after him with a grunt of effort. Peter webbed up and began to chase Connors, Jack following on the ground. While his healing factor was impaired, the werewolf still retained his other abilities, like enhanced speed and a wicked vertical, which he proved when he leapt over a semi. He easily kept up with Peter, which impressed the web-slinger, his injury not hindering him as much as Peter thought it would.

Sirens then started to wail, and cops started to chase them too. A helicopter appeared out of the night sky and shone its spotlight down on the street. But it wasn't aimed at Connors, who was marching down the street and pushing cars out of the way.

It was aimed at Jack.

Then, shots started to rain down, speckling the ground around him. Jack stumbled and tried to avoid the bullets, hiding behind a car. Peter scanned ahead and saw that a roadblock had been set up, and that Connors was heading right for it. But the officers behind him were beginning to close in on Jack's position, yelling to each to switch off their guns' safety. Peter turned around and started to head back for his lycan friend. As he swung back down the street, he started to hear rapid gunfire.

Jack tried to shield himself from behind a car, but got hit by a taser bullet. He fell to the ground, and the cops moved in, their guns trained on him. Were they about to execute him in the middle of the street?

Not on Peter's watch.

The web-slinger swung in, and kicked two officers down. The cops turned their attention to him, but he webbed each one to the ground or to nearby cars, incapacitating them. Peter hated having to work against the police, but they had given him no choice. One after another, he disarmed the cops until they were all ensnared in his web traps. He went over to Jack and knelt down, shaking his shoulder.

Jack groaned, his blue eyes flicked open. With a grimace, he pushed himself up, and Peter helped him to his feet. The helicopter's searchlight landed on them, bathing the two heroes in bright white light. Then, there were footsteps behind them and they both turned around to see a cop with his gun out. Peter instinctively read the officer's name tag, and his blood ran cold.

Officer Jones.

It was MJ's dad. Peter knew it immediately, and he felt his stomach drop. Would he have to fight her father to protect Jack? Would she ever forgive him for such a thing?

But Officer Jones never raised his gun at them, much to Peter's relief and surprise. The cop them nodded to them.

"I saw Stark's memo," Officer Jones addressed Jack, and Peter's spirits lifted, "To me, you're innocent."

 _I think I'm in love with your daughter,_ Peter thought inwardly as he stared at the policeman.

"That thing almost killed my cousin!" A cop webbed to a car shouted angrily, and Jones looked back at him.

"Did you not see that helmet Stark submitted to evidence, and the tapes?" He retorted, glaring at his fellow officer, "Shut the hell up, Sitwell."

At least Peter knew where MJ got her sass from.

Jones then nodded to them, telling them to leave. A roar echoed through the city. Jack tapped Peter's shoulder and threw his head to the side, a gesture for them to leave. Peter nodded affirmatively and they both left, Jack running on all fours and Peter swinging from the buildings. But before they could get far enough away, one of the policeman freed himself and took a shot at Jack, hitting him in the leg. Jack shrieked in pain but kept running, trying hard not to limp.

Connors was standing in front of the roadblock at the intersection. He roared from the hood of a car, holding a large canister in each hand, and spraying from them were jets of dark green gas. Any officer within range of the rising cloud collapsed to the ground and began to convulse.

**He's released a biological agent.**

"I can see that, Karen!" Peter said as Connors began to dart away, picking up the Disperser and scrambling down the street. He clawed up a building and start to speedily jump from roof to roof.

Jack ran over to the officers, who were writhing on the ground. Their skin was turning a sickly green color and they were struggling to breathe.

"We have to stop him. Now," Jack said, looking up at Peter, who landed on a lamppost.

"Where's he going?" Peter asked, and he saw Oscorp Tower at the far end of the street. Cop cars were everywhere, and Peter feared that Jack wouldn't make it through the fray alive.

"Top of Oscorp Tower. There's a placement up there where he's gonna set up the Disperser," Jack explained, following the web-slinger's gaze to look at the parade of police cars.

"We have to get topside," Peter suggested, springing onto the side of a building. Jack followed his lead and leapt, landing beside him with a grunt. With some effort, the two managed to climb up the building. Jack's bullet wound from when the cop shot him bled profusely, draining down his leg and leaving bloody pawprints on the brick of the building.

By the time they reached the top, Connors was already scaling the Oscorp Tower. A helicopter was hovering near him, a searchlight trained on the maddened scientist as he climbed. Peter didn't think they could get to the Tower in time to stop him, especially with Jack's new injury.

Peter spied some cranes that hung over the street, and an idea started to formulate in his mind. It was crazy, and Jack might not like it, but it could be just what they needed. He turned to his werewolf friend, who was inspecting his fresh calf wound.

"Jack, I've got an idea," Peter said, and Jack pricked his ears in anticipation, "I need you to jump with me, got it?"

"To where?" Jack questioned with a tip of his head. Peter gestured to the cranes, and Jack shook his head, saying, "I'll never make it."

"Doesn't matter. Just jump," Peter ordered, and he went up beside Jack. Using his web-shooters, he did his best to patch up the lycan's leg and chest wound at an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"You're almost as crazy as I am," Jack said with a smile as Peter straightened up. They braced together, getting ready for the jump.

After an reassuring nod, they both took off, Jack trying to suppress his limp as he ran on all fours. They sprinted to the edge of the building and Peter sprang as far as he could, Jack a step in front. He tried to jump as far as he could manage, but as he predicted, he didn't make it, falling short. But Peter counted on him not making it, and shot a web from each arm, one aimed for Jack's back and the crane. Once he got both his targets, he used his momentum and swung both of them, Jack whooping in exhilaration.

"This is awesome!!!" The werewolf roared as Peter threw him into the air and he let go of his web. He shot another and latches onto another crane, catching Jack as he began to descend. He swung them like before, Jack having the time of his life as he was thrown into the air once more.

Finally, they got to the last crane, and Jack managed to grab it. He heaved himself up as Peter landed beside him, and they stared up at the skyscraper. Connors was crawling up the satellite tower that stuck out of the top of the building, still carrying his machine.

"Damn, he's fast," Jack said, wincing as he shook his arm out and tore the stray webbing off his shoulders. Then, he looked around, blinking at the height. He gave Peter a hard look before opening his jaws, and he gripped his bare fang in his claws. With an agonized whine, he ripped his tooth out, and handed the bloody fang to Peter.

"Put this into the serum Connors is gonna use for the machine," Jack said as he spat out blood, "It'll dissolve and make it into an antidote. When it shoots up, it'll cure the infected cops before they can become lycans like him."

"But you won't be able to regrow your tooth, which changed Connors back before. You'll be vulnerable if you fight him," Peter observed, becoming worried for his werewolf companion while he held the fang in his hand. He would only have his one metal-clad fang left to fight with, and that might not be enough.

"Don't you worry about me, okay?" Jack snapped, his blue eyes flashing, "Just focus on taking care of the machine."

He then gave Peter a somber look, his ears flicking back. Peter put the fang in one of his belt compartments, then reached out his hand, and the two fistbumped. Jack then cast his gaze upward, breathing deep.

"Leave Connors to me."


	39. Saving New York Pt.2

Peter and Jack leapt at the building, the werewolf not needing any help this time. Pure determination seemed to be propelling him forward, driving up the Oscorp Tower. But he was still slower than Peter, who had crawled up as fast as he could and had reached the top first.

Peter webbed up the satellite tower, slingshotting himself upward and becoming level with the lizard scientist, who had just finished setting up his machine, inserting the serum into its slot. Peter swung around and managed to kick Connors off his platform. But he grasped Peter's leg and dragged him down, causing them both to fall. The web-slinger hit the ground hard, the wind being knocked out of him, and he rolled away as Connors leapt at him, scoring the ground with his claws.

**Peter, he set the timer. You have six minutes before the Disperser releases the toxin.**

"Duly-," Peter evaded the scientist's thrashing tail. "-Noted!"

Dr.Connors whirled around, but was suddenly dropped to the ground by Jack, who had gotten to the edge. He had grabbed the maddened lizard by the tail and yanked, making him fall. Jack pulled himself up but was backhanded by Connors. He roared at Peter and attempted to claw him, but the boy leapt out of reach. Jack charged Connors from behind and put him in a headlock, forcing him to bend backwards. He was much taller than Jack, and the werewolf struggled to keep his hold.

"Get up there!" Jack thundered as he tossed Connors aside, "I'll hold him!"

"You think you can stop me? You're worthless! Both of you!" Dr.Connors bellowed as he straightened up, his tail lashing.

Peter nodded to his friend and webbed up the tower, but was suddenly knocked down by a flying tank of liquid nitrogen, which exploded on impact. Ice started to spread around the tower, making it creak and tremble. He was flung so far by the blast that he was sent over the edge of the building. But Jack managed to catch Peter by the leg, and he swung him, Peter delivering a flying kick to Connors' face, making him recoil. Peter backflipped away and Jack ran under his flip, charging Dr.Connors and tackling him to the ground. But Connors still had the advantage, scoring his claws across Jack's chest and shoulders, riddling his torso with gashes.

"This time I'll make sure you die!" The lizard scientist shrieked as he slashed his claws across Jack's face.

**Four minutes, Peter.**

Peter tried to climb the satellite tower again, but Jack was sent crashing into it. It shook violently, its base growing more and more unsteady because of the debilitating ice taking it over. Jack picked himself back up as Peter sprang back onto the pole, climbing up. Connors tried to chase him but was intercepted by Jack, who was suffering by now from multiple scratches and cuts across his body. The two wrestled, Jack growing weaker and weaker as he struggled to keep the scientist at bay. Connors threw him aside and jumped after Peter, grasping him by his shoulder and throwing him down before he could reach the platform.

Temporarily winded by the impact of his fall, Connors landed beside him and used his disorientation to his advantage, wrapping a clawed, scaly hand around the web-slinger's neck. He used his other hand to ensnare Peter's hands. Jack tried to stop him, dragging himself while on the ground and grabbing at the lycan-lizard's leg. But Connors tethered his tail around Jack's throat, choking him. The werewolf's body was criss-crossed with every kind of gash, and he was bleeding from almost everywhere. One of his eyes was swollen shut and blood dripped from his mouth, but Connors didn't have a mark because of his own healing factor.

"You both are pathetic," Dr.Connors snarled, his voice taunting as he bared his teeth, "a runaway wolf and an orphaned spider? What a dynamic duo you two make. Trying to be heroes, eh? Once everyone is as powerful as I, there will be no need for you, or any other hero ever again."

Peter kicked at him, but Connors retained his strong grip. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Jack reaching weakly for a gas line that lead to a propane tank. It lay beside the satellite tower, and peter immediately knew what the lycan planned on doing.

"Jack Russell, a monster who can't escape his name," the lizard scientist went on, "and Peter Parker, a child who thinks himself an Avenger, when he's nothing of the sort. I am capable of giving the people unimaginable power, and you seek to destroy that chance? Some heroes you are, indeed."

Peter managed to rip one his hands free and he webbed the gas line, throwing it to Jack, who caught it and tore it. A high-pitched ringing filled the air as the propane tank mounted in pressure. Connors peered at it only to have his eyes widen, and they were all blown backward as the tank exploded, making the whole building tremble. A nearby news helicopter circled in on the action, shining its searchlight on Dr.Connors, who stood up first. The crazed lycan-lizard stalked toward Peter but was tackled by Jack, who was running off pure willpower by this point. He wrestled with Connors in the growing flames, giving the boy enough time to ascend the tower once more.

This time, Peter made it to the platform, the timer having forty-five seconds left. He took out Jack's fang and hit a button on the Disperser, and the serum popped out of its slot. Just before Peter could insert the tooth through the vial's cap, he heard a shot go off from below. His heart stopping, he looked down and saw Jack fall to the ground, flames surrounding him and pieces of the satellite tower crashing on top of him. Connors was clawing his way up the tower, hellbent on stopping Peter.

"No!!!" Peter cried, horror filling his mind. Despite his sudden grief, he had to finish his mission. Jack would want that. But his stomach felt like lead, and a lump rose in Peter's throat.

The web-slinger dragged his horrified gaze away from Jack's body and dropped the fang into the serum, resetting it back into the machine. Connors caught Peter's leg and pulled him down forcefully, but Peter managed to hold onto the platform with one hand. The timer went to zero and the serum changed color, taking on a white hue, and there was a whirring noise. Like a cannon, the Disperser rocketed its load into the air, and the newly-created antidote disappeared into the overcast night sky. It exploded and a white shockwave rippled through the clouds. White particles started to fall all around the city, almost like snow. Nearby particles landed on Dr.Connors, who was gazing up at the sky in awe. But his skin turned pale as the particles attached themselves to him, his scales beginning to rapidly melt away. His right arm began to break and dissipate, and he was forced to let go of Peter's leg. He plummeted to the ground with an agonized roar, becoming enveloped in the flames from the propane tank.

Then, the satellite tower groaned, and it began to tilt as the liquid nitrogen corrupted its base, eating away at the metal. Peter jumped down and hit the ground before it would collapse, landing in a crouch. The fire made it hard to see, but Peter knew that Dr.Connors had fled, but he specifically knew where Jack was.

Peter looked around and saw him lying face-down, blood streaming through his fur and onto the ground. Peter straightened up and ran to his side, throwing the fallen pieces of the satellite tower off his friend. The web-slinger pushed Jack over on his back and saw what he really didn't want to see.

Dr.Connors had shot Jack in the chest, close to where his heart would be. Peter looked around and saw a familiar revolver lying on the ground a ways away, confirming that it was the second silver bullet.

Peter attempted to wake Jack, and the werewolf groaned, his lips pulling back in a grimace. He blinked one eye open, and glanced up at Peter. He breathed deep, wincing, and Peter couldn't take in the extensiveness of his wounds. All were gruesome gashes and claw marks, all bleeding heavily. Peter feared he wouldn't survive the night, especially with two silver bullets stuck in his chest.

The satellite tower groaned again, swaying and tilting. Peter, determined to not leave his friend behind, starting to pick Jack up.

But he was resistant, growling, "leave me here. You can make it by yourself."

"Allow me to save you for once," Peter snapped in response, forcing the werewolf to his feet. He supported him as they got to the edge, Jack barely keeping his feet as his limped, his body trembling violently. They both looked down at the street below. How would they escape?

"Remember when you told me to jump, and I said I wouldn't make it?" Jack asked him, and Peter gave him a curious look. The building shook as the satellite tower began to heed the call of gravity, falling right toward them.

"Yeah?" Peter replied nervously. Jack then grasped the wallcrawler and held him tight against him, smearing his blood in Peter's suit.

"Well, we're gonna do that again," Jack stated, before leaping over the edge as far as he could, clutching Peter as the tower came down on them.

Peter couldn't believe what Jack was doing. Was he insane? As they were still flying out, the tower chased them before starting its downward descent. And when they themselves began to fall, they were well away from the heavy debris careening to the street. Peter silently prayed that no one below would be crushed beneath any of it.

The lycan then turned over, his back facing the ground and Peter held tight against his chest. They came to a jarring stop as Jack slammed into the roof of the neighboring building, creating a deep crater in the ground. Peter was unharmed but disoriented from the crash, wrapped up safely in Jack's strong embrace. But when the werewolf made impact, his arms went limp around Peter, and he became scarily still.

Shaking his head, Peter scrambled off the werewolf and inspected him, his worry growing by the second. When Jack didn't move, his chest not rising or falling with breath and when his eyes remained closed, panic seized him. He shook Jack to get him to wake up, but the longer he stayed conscienceless, the more desperate Peter became. He cried his name and begged him to open his eyes. The boy's breathing became shaky as his worst thoughts became real, and he shook his head, refusing to believe what was happening.

"Help!!" Peter began to call desperately to anyone nearby, but deep down knowing his cries would be in vain, "help! My friend needs help! He needs a doctor! Please! Somebody help!"

Peter threw himself over Jack's bloodied body. He tore off his mask, tears streaming down his face, and he fisted the werewolf's now-brown fur, sparse from the blood. Peter hugged his friend's large head, grief clawing at his lungs and making it hard to breathe as he buried his face in Jack's fluffy neck fur. They had saved New York together, by at what cost? Did Jack really just sacrifice himself for a city that had done nothing for him? Did he really just sacrifice himself for Peter? Sobs escaped from the web-slinger's chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tightened his grip on Jack's limp head.

It was like losing Uncle Ben all over again.

Then, weird orange sparks caught Peter's attention, and he looked up. They seemed to be rotating in a large circle slightly elevated off the ground. Peter wiped the tears from his eyes as a blurry image appeared, and suddenly, a man walked out of the ring of sparks. The phenomenon took Peter by surprise, and he gazed up at the newcomer in a mixed expression of both shock and fear. The stranger was tall and slender, wearing blue robes and a dark red cape with golden brown gloves, as well as a long necklace with a large golden object hanging from it. His hair was black with streaks of pale gray on the side, and he had a dark goatee. He looked down at Peter with sharp, intelligent brown eyes, and his voice was deep when he spoke.

"Did someone call for a doctor?"


	40. Strange

The newcomer knelt down beside Jack's still body, and he assessed the situation. Peter was too spellbound to ask who he was. He had come from nowhere. He had literally materialized from thin air! How does one even do that?

"Multiple lacerations across the torso, bullet embedded in the right pectoral and calf muscle, and another in the trapezius. Just missed the heart, between the lungs. Multiple ribs broken, spinal column cracked in four places, vertebrae is fractured," the stranger observed, looking over Jack with a stern, calculating gaze. He leaned back and sighed, "Surprisingly, he's not dead, but he's close."

"Can you do anything for him?" Peter asked, his voice hoarse as he wiped some stray tears from his reddened eyes. Relief washed over him when he heard that Jack was alive.

The newcomer pursed his lips, looking down at Jack. He did another light inspection of the lycan's wounds and straightened up. He took off his gloves and his cape departed from his shoulders, floating casually behind him. He then held his arms out toward Jack. He performed some weird gestures with his hands, which Peter noticed to be horribly scarred. The golden object that hung from his necklace then opened, revealing a shining green jewel. A row of similarly colored rings surrounded the stranger's arm, and he began to turn the biggest circle, positioned in the palm of his hand, counter-clockwise.

Peter couldn't believe what he was seeing. Somehow, Jack's wounds were beginning to close, sealing up like zippers on a jacket. Gash after gash, they each healed, leaving only a bloody outline in their place. But the werewolf still didn't move, and that worried Peter. The stranger's brow furrowed as he concentrated, focusing until all Jack's injuries were gone. The only marks that remained were the two bullets wounds in his chest. Even the bullet the cop had put in his leg had popped out, clattering to the ground.

The mystery hero sat back, and the green rings around his arm dissipated. Peter watched Jack, waiting for his eyes to open. His right eye was no longer swollen shut, and he waited to see those glowing blue orbs.

"H-How did you do that?" Peter asked the stranger, looking up.

"Study and years of practice," he replied simply, putting his gloves back on as he watched the state of his patient.

"How did you find us?" Peter inquired, keeping his eye on Jack, leaning over to support the lycan's head with his arm.

"I saw what was happening on the news, and I came in time to see you two jump. I heard you calling for help..." he responded, he looked at Jack with an expression of pity, "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

There was a moment of silence. Both of them were waiting to see if Jack would wake up. Peter began to despair, thinking that maybe this time Jack was gone for good. He looked at the stranger and he looked like he was meditating. The web-slinger realized that he didn't have his mask on, so lying about his identity was pointless. Nevertheless, he reached out his hand for a handshake.

"Peter Parker."

"Dr.Stephen Strange," he replied, and they shook hands.

"Ugh, I've had enough of doctors," Jack suddenly groaned, and Peter looked down at his friend. Pure joy coursed through his system, and he threw his arms around the lycan's neck in a hug. Jack grunted in pain, and Peter quickly pulled back. Panic replaced his happiness when he saw that Jack's wounds were starting to reopen.

"The silver," Jack muttered, and he grimaced as every gash started to come back. Dr.Strange watched him, stroking his chin and unsure about what to do.

"He needs a hospital," Peter said, supporting Jack's head.

"No, they won't help him. They won't know how to handle him. He's too... different," the mystical doctor said, shaking his head. He added quickly to Jack, "No offense."

"None taken."

"Where do we go then?" Peter asked, until he inwardly answered his own question, "The Avengers Facility! We could take him there!" But it dawned on Peter that this wizard guy might not even know where that was, adding, "Do you know where that is?"

"I know where everything is, kid," the doctor said, giving Peter a nod. He stood up, grabbing one of Jack's arms, and Peter got his other one. Both of them managed to pull the werewolf to his feet, and he whined in agony. Dr.Strange's red cape reattached itself to his shoulders, and Jack stared at it in wonder.

"Damage Control is gonna have a good night," the doctor said as he looked over the edge of the building.

Dr.Strange then fastened something that looked like brass knuckles on his fingers, and he began to move his left hand in a circle. The ring of sparks appeared again, and the front door of the Avengers Facility materialized before them. They walked through the circle, much to Jack's awe, and they pushed through the double doors.

Peter called out for someone to come help them, and several workers appeared, all of them wearing suits and looking very official. They gave Jack and Dr.Strange odd looks, but recognized Peter. One of the them notified the hospital wing as Jack collapsed to the ground, for he was quickly losing strength as his wounds came back in full force. His legs had most likely given out because, like Dr.Strange had said, he had broken his spine in four places.

A few minutes later, several medical personnel appeared with a gurney, and it was huge. Did they have one that size on standby in case the Hulk got hurt? Mr.Stark must take every precaution when it came to his team members. The doctors had trouble lifting him up though, and he was howling with pain by this point. Dr.Strange was rattling off his list of injuries, and how everything was coming back slowly, like his broken spine and vertebrae. He went with them as they wheeled Jack down the hallway, claiming he was a certified surgeon and could help. Peter tried to follow, but was held back, saying he had to wait in the lobby.

Peter understood, but he didn't like having to wait. He sat down on one of the couches, and he realized how tired he was. He held his mask in his hand, and he looked down at his suit. It was splattered with Jack's blood, and was dark against his bright red fabric.

Then, exhaustion hit him like a truck. It was way past midnight. Realizing that it was super late, he took out his phone from one of his belt compartments. How it had survived the night, he had no idea. He had several missed calls from Aunt May, a few from Ned, and one from MJ.

Peter stared the one missed call from the girl he might love. Why had she called him? Was it because he had ignored her earlier that day? Had she seen him on TV? Had her dad said something about him? All these questions raced through his mind, and he had no idea what to do. She wouldn't be up, but then again, she might be. Her reading habits often kept her up late into the night.

Besides, hearing her voice sounded really good right about now.

Almost impulsively, he hit the callback button and it started to ring. He held his phone to his ear, looking down at his mask as it rang. After a few seconds, she picked up, and Peter's heart skipped a beat as she answered.

"Parker," her voice was flat and unwelcoming, and Peter immediately knew that she wasn't in the best mood. But she didn't sound tired. Had she let the phone ring, debating on whether or not to answer?

"Hey MJ," was all Peter said.

"You've had a busy night."

"So it seems."

"Everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Jack's in the emergency room at the Avenger's Facility."

She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke next, her tone was a little softer. "He gonna be okay?"

"I hope so."

Silence.

I'm sorry I never told you about him," she said. He felt a grin pull at the corners of his mouth. Hearing her voice be so gentle was the exact thing his tired mind needed.

"Don't worry about it. It was my fault."

"I saw him fighting that dinosaur on the news, and the NYPD have Dr.Connors from Oscorp in custody. They released a statement too, saying that Jack is innocent of his crimes. They're practically calling him a hero now."

Peter smiled. He hoped that all of New York would see it that way. Maybe if Jack survived the surgery, which he didn't doubt, that piece of news would cheer him up a bit. He leaned his head back against the couch with a sigh.

"Are you okay, Webs?"

It took a second for him to answer. He had just about the second roughest night of his life, and his limbs were wracked with exhaustion. His eyelids were heavy, and his whole body was sore. He smelled faintly of smoke, and he rubbed his eyes.

"Just tired," Peter replied, suppressing a yawn.

"Not surprised. Good thing you got the weekend."

The boy laughed weakly. Her voice soothed him, and made the memories of his experience hurt a little less. He wanted to see her so badly, and tell her everything that had happened. But Mr.Stark's voice came up in the back of his mind at the very thought.

_I know you like this girl, but just consider if you're willing to put her danger._

Peter knew he had just recently decided to fight for MJ, but he wondered if that was selfish of him. Was he willing to risk her life just so he would be happy? He breathed deep, exhaling heavily. His head and heart were having a duel, and he wasn't sure which would win.

"I'm sorry, MJ, too, you know," he began, "for the other night. For bailing."

"You're a superhero. Trust me, I didn't take it personally."

"See you soon? I'm gonna stay overnight with Jack."

"Okay. Get some rest, Parker. You sound awful."

And just like that, she hung up. Had he not been so tired, he would've talked to her for hours. He might have fallen asleep on the couch if an agent hadn't come over to him, and offered him the room that had been built specifically for him by Mr.Stark. Peter nodded and followed the blonde-haired lady to a comfortable looking room, with a bunk bed, a desk and a dresser. It looked almost exactly like his room at home, except it was cleaner and had its own bathroom.

"Leave your suit outside the door and someone here will wash it for you," the agent said. Peter nodded as she left, and he closed the door.

After slipping off his suit, he went to the dresser and found some pink Hello Kitty pajama pants. He shook his head with a smile, and he put them on, not bothering to look for a shirt as well. After he left his suit on the handle outside his room, he went to the bathroom and turned on the light. He looked in the mirror and saw that he had a lot of bruises on his back, as well as Jack's blood on his face.

After washing his face, he turned off the light and left the bathroom, proceeding to fall face-first on his bed. He immediately snuggled up, thankfully for its comfort. Thinking he should probably tell May what was happening, he shot her a quick text simply saying "safe". He laid his phone down on the nightstand beside his bed and set his head on a pillow, not bothering to get under the covers. His body seemed to relax for the first time, his tension melting into the soft mattress.

He was asleep within minutes, and his mind granted him a kind dream. He was snuggling with MJ on the couch in his apartment, happily allowing himself to be the little spoon. He hoped this dream was a look into the future, because if it was, then he had a lot to look forward to.


	41. What The Heart Wants

Peter awoke the next morning to someone knocking on his door. He was upset about having to get up, not wanting to leave his dream just yet. He blinked awake and pushed himself to a sitting position. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and struggled to make himself fully awake. He looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly twelve in the afternoon. Jack would be out of surgery by now. Had he made it? Was he in a coma? Was he even alive? Eager for answers, he called for the visitor to come in, hoping that they would have news.

Then, the Avenger, Vision, phased through the door, taking him by surprise. Peter stood up quickly to address him, and Vision's robotic eyes focused on the boy. He wore a black sweater and gray trousers, with a white collared shirt underneath. The fact that he was just a super advanced robot both weirded Peter out and left him in awe. Over his arm was Peter's suit, now clean and looking brand new. He laid it on the dresser, then started to speak.

"Mr.Russell is awake. He's asked to see you," Vision informed him, "and Mr.Stark will be arriving soon."

Peter nodded, feeling relief knowing his friend had survived the night. He searched for something to say to the Avenger, but Vision was gone before he could reply, walking through his bedroom wall and disappearing. After he was gone, Peter went over to his dresser and opened it. Inside, he found everything that he definitely had in his own drawers back home, including science pun t-shirts. Had Mr.Stark gone shopping for him? With a yawn, Peter quickly changed into a science shirt, jeans and a pair of sneakers that fit him perfectly. He grabbed a jacket off the hook and left the room, leaving his suit in his room and making a mental note to come back for it. His heart raced at the thought of seeing what kind of condition his werewolf friend was in.

Peter walked down the hallway and a friendly nurse pointed him in the right direction. He passed a few other rooms before getting to the right one. He pushed open the door, and saw a now-human Jack sitting in the hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown and eating a pudding cup while he watched the news. He had one earbud in, bobbing his head slightly to the music playing on his iPod.

His hair was a flaming orangish-red, his close-cut stubble bearing the same color. He appeared to be totally fine, not a scratch on him. Jack looked at Peter as he walked in, and a smile spread across his face. Werewolf or not, his eyes still shone the same bright blue.

"Morning, sunshine," Jack said, setting his finished pudding cup down and popping his one earbud out, "Wild night, huh?"

"Yeah, really wild," Peter agreed, sitting down on a chair next to Jack's bed. He was glad his friend was okay, and that he had the blessing of a quick recovery. Peter was almost comforted by his friendly attitude. Jack had almost died the other night, and yet his good nature hadn't left him, even after his near-death experience.

"They caught Connors. He's confessed to everything," Jack said, pointing to the TV that was fixed to the wall. A small grin pulled at his lips, "They've vindicated me."

"Congratulations!" Peter said, smiling along with his friend, "How does that feel?"

"It's relieving, I guess. I mean, Connors apparently confessed to brainwashing the "Werewolf" and using him for "nefarious" purposes. But that doesn't mean everyone loves me now, you know?" Jack replied with a heavy sigh, "They'll always know me as the monster that attacked policemen in Times Square."

Peter understood what he meant. Sure, he was no longer seen as a criminal, but convincing people that he was good was still something to be done.

"Well, Werewolf will soon be recognized for the hero that he is, especially after last night," Peter pointed out, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"We'll see," Jack said glumly, hanging his head slightly. Peter noticed his friend's declining positive state and steered the conversation in another direction.

"How are you?" Peter asked as Jack picked up one of the tubes that was stuck in arm and inspected it.

"I'm perfectly fine. That Strange guy helped with getting the bullets outta me. Took a solid seven hours to do. I think I flatlined for maybe ten seconds before my healing factor finally came back. But dude, get this. They gave my other fang a gold crown," Jack explained, his tone rising with excitement at his last sentence.

"Yeah, but are _you_ okay?" Peter asked.

"Mentally?" Jack clarified, and Peter nodded, "The doctor said I might have some temporary trauma and said something about PTSD, but I don't think that'll be a big deal."

He then held up his iPod, adding, "And can you believe they found this? I think I said something about where it was when I all high on sedative. I wake up and there it was."

Peter thought it was suspicious about how Jack changed the subject so quickly. PTSD was no small thing. But he decided to let it go for now. If it affected Jack later on, Peter would be able to help him then.

"Where'd Strange go afterward?" Peter asked, trying to turn the subject back toward his surgery.

"He disappeared right after the surgery. Didn't even get to thank him."

Peter nodded, and he sat back in his chair. He released a heavy sigh, and Jack gave him a peculiar look.

"What's wrong, Spider? You seem... distressed," Jack observed, furrowing his brow and quirking his mouth.

"I've just been thinking a lot," Peter replied with a shrug.

"Do I dare ask about what?"

"It's just- I don't know, it's hard to talk about," Peter said, running his hands through his hair, "I guess I'm just torn about what to do."

"Well being vague will help neither of us."

"It's about- it's about MJ," the boy began slowly, not entirely sure if he wanted to talk about his relationship problems with Jack. It hadn't been that long ago that Peter had considered him his romantic rival, after all.

"MJ? You mean Michelle?" Jack questioned. Peter assumed that Jack didn't call MJ by her nickname. For some reason, that made him feel rather smug, but Peter nodded at his question.

"What about her? Thinking about how you're gonna ask her out?" Jack asked with a cheeky smile, winking at Peter.

Peter laughed dryly, looking down at his feet. "About whether or not I should."

"Well, what's holding you back?" Jack inquired, looking confused, "You're crazy about her, aren't you?"

"Obviously, but Mr.Stark says it may not be safe for, you know, her to be with me..."

"Who's he to talk? He's freakin' engaged!" Jack exclaimed, shaking his head, "and you're freakin' Spider-Man! You just saved the whole of New York!"

"Technically, we both did."

"Either way, protecting her should be easy compared to the other shit you've ever had to deal with," Jack said, sitting up in his bed, "Who's Stark to get in the way of love?"

Peter nodded, evaluating Jack's words. While there was a truth to them, Peter still felt at conflict with himself. Both Mr.Stark and Jack had somewhat good points, Peter still couldn't make a decision about what to do. He wanted to protect MJ, but maybe he could do that best by just staying away. That very thought was like a punch to the gut. But then again, who could protect her better than Spider-Man himself?

"In my honest opinion, I don't think it's very fair of him to dictate who you should be with," Jack sighed, scratching his cheek, "But it's up to you. What does the heart want, pal?"

Then, Vision passed thought he door, startling both the boys. Jack's eyes widened, and Peter turned in his chair. The robotic Avenger was carrying a familiar black backpack in one hand,  and his voice was naturally calm when he spoke.

"Mr.Stark has arrived," Vision announced, and he set the backpack on a chair, "You're free to go, Mr.Russell. Meet with Mr.Stark in a few minutes to discuss your plans for the future."

When Vision left, Jack gave Peter a puzzled look. "Uh, the future?"

"Get changed, big guy," Peter said, standing up. He went to the door, opened it and paused. He looked back at Jack and gave him a smile, saying, "I'll see you out there."

Jack nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Peter leaned against the side of the doorway. It looked like there was something bothering Jack, and he didn't want to leave without knowing.

"He didn't shoot me in the head," Jack murmured, bowing his head and clutching the side of the bed.

"What do you mean?"

"Connors said if I followed him, he'd put the second bullet in my head," he clarified, looking at his bare feet, "Only he didn't."

"Bad guys are weird. No one can understand what they do and why they do it," Peter pointed out.

"What if he did it purposefully? What if he didn't want to kill me?" Jack asked in a low voice, and he rubbed his hand over his face, "What if I wasn't supposed to die..?"

"Then he succeeded, for here you are," Peter argued, gesturing to him. The remark issued a soft chuckle from Jack, who still kept his head down. Peter frowned slightly, crossing his arms.

"Thanks, by the way, for saving my life last night," Peter said, and a grin spread across Jack's face. He looked up at Peter, his eyes almost watery with gratitude.

"And thank you for saving mine."


	42. Your Very Own Rhodey

Peter walked down the hall back to the lobby, and he found Mr.Stark waiting for him. He was wearing an expensive-looking suit and sunglasses. Happy was there too, talking into his phone. His mentor smiled widely when he saw the boy, and he slapped on his hand on Peter's back.

"Great work, kid!" Tony said, his eyes shining with pride behind him sunglasses, "Great work. Wolfy too. You both did beautifully. You took down your bad guy and proved your friend innocent all in one fell swoop. Could've been a bit cleaner, but it was still a job well done."

"Yeah, sorry about the tower going down," Peter apologized, bowing his head, "I didn't think things would get so out of hand."

"Nah, don't worry about it. Nobody on the ground was hurt and Damage Control got paid some overtime for it," Tony replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Mr.Stark, about Jack," Peter began awkwardly, "what are you going to help him with?"

"Now, is it Jack or Jacob?" Tony asked, "The only thing we found on him was a name change in California, which is where he's from, but he's got no record here or anywhere else."

"He goes by Jack."

"Well, I wanted to offer Jack the position of being your partner," Tony replied, "I can't offer him an Avenger spot for obvious reasons, but this is the best I can do currently. Consider it like having your very own Rhodey. I also wanted to talk to him about other things, living arrangements and the like."

"But why?"

"Well, he'd be homeless otherwise. He's got no relatives in the area and his mother is-."

"Yeah, I get that but I'm thinking more along the lines of why you're helping him," Peter clarified, "It's just that, Jack's done so much bad, and I defended him despite that. Doesn't this kind of remind you of what started the fights between you and Captain America?"

Tony stopped walking, going silent, and Peter worried that he may have struck a sensitive cord in his mentor. The Avenger took off his sunglasses, folded them and put them in his coat pocket. He fixated his brown eyes on Peter, and the boy grew anxious under his stare.

"I made many mistakes during that time, so did Rogers, and I did a lot things because I wanted to protect everyone, and so did he," Mr.Stark began, and he had to take a steadying breath in order to go on, "But I'll admit I'm almost... proud that you turned out like him when put in the same situation."

"So helping Jack means..?"

"It means that I'm not looking to make the same mistakes twice," Tony sighed, patting Peter's shoulder, "I lost half my team over something that could have been easily fixed if I just had time to think, and since then, I've had lots of time to think. If you believe that Jack is good, I'll do what I can for him."

"So, you're gonna make him my sidekick?" Peter asked. He remembered that Jack didn't necessarily care for being considered a sidekick. "Think he'll go for that?"

"Hell yeah!" Jack's voice exclaimed through the hall, and Mr.Stark and Peter both turned. Jack was striding down the hall wearing a blue flannel shirt with a white tee underneath and tawny cargo pants with black Adidas.

"I mean, we can work on the "sidekick" part, but I'll roll with it for now," Jack said as he approached them, and he regained his composure upon facing Tony, "Hello, sir. Jack Russell. Big fan of yours. I remember you racing at the Monaco Historic Grand Prix and fighting the guy with the electric whip thingies." Cue arm-flailing motions. "That was pretty cool."

Tony gave him a flattered smile, saying, "Yeah, that was a fun time." He turned back to Peter. "As for your question, I just figured that if Lobo here is gonna get anywhere with the public in this city, he might need someone with him to prove he's one of the good guys," He took ahold of Peter's shoulder and gave it a shake. "You two make a pretty good team. I've made an announcement that the hero named- "Werewolf", is it?- would go through rehab and work as a consultant for the Avengers alongside the Spider-Man."

"Rehab?" Jack questioned, frowning slightly.

"Basically, it's saying that you're not gonna be a bad guy anymore," Tony clarified with a wave of his hand, "You'll go through some light training to satisfy the authorities but that'll be it. Of course, any other type of help you might need will be readily available."

Peter and Jack gave each other excited looks. They would be working together! Spider-Man and Werewolf, protectors of New York City. Peter hoped that the people would take to Jack's true personality, and forget about what he did in the past.

The Avenger looked at his watch, "Well, I'm actually gonna need a few minutes with Wolftstein here. We need to go over some things. But I'll call you later, 'kay, Parker?"

He then walked away with Jack, throwing his arm across his shoulders, Happy following after them. Mr.Stark said something to Happy about finding "that Strange guy" before leaving through the front door. Then it was just Peter. After standing so close to him, Peter hadn't realized how tall Jack was. Jack had maybe four inches on him. He was even taller than Mr.Stark.

But what could they be talking about? Peter didn't think it would be anything bad, considering that he had just helped save New York and had even sacrificed his life, both to save the city and Peter himself.

Wanting to do something, he took out his phone and dialed MJ's number. He put his phone to his ear and waited for her to pick up.

"What up, Webs," MJ greeted, making Peter smile, "Is Weirdwolf alive?"

"Hey MJ, yeah he's recovered and talking to Mr.Stark," Peter responded, laughing at the nickname while looking out the window, "I was wondering, do you wanna meet somewhere?"

"Where ya thinking?" She asked, not even questioning him.

"Go to the Broadway Cafe," Peter instructed, "I'll meet you there, okay?"

"You trying to be mysterious is like the most pathetic thing in the world," MJ said in her usual deadpan voice, "See you there."

She hung up abruptly, and Peter ran back to his room. He closed the door and tore off his clothes, pulling back on his suit. It smelled like fresh flowers and was softer than before. He carried his mask as he left his room, and he went to the front desk where a receptionist was working.

"Hello, Mr.Parker!" She said in a friendly way, giving the young web-slinger a smile, "What can I help you with?"

"Uh, I don't really know how I got here last night," Peter began, shuffling his feet as he leaned on the counter, "Can someone here take me back to Manhattan?"

The receptionist nodded, "Of course. Just wait outside, and someone will pull right up."

"Thank you very much," Peter said, walking away. He pushed through the door and waited on the steps. He would have to make up his mind about MJ before he saw her, but he still had no idea what to do.

Was he willing to break his own heart in the name of safety, or was he willing to risk it all because he might love her?


	43. A New Kind of Hero

As promised, a driver came in a black limousine and picked Peter up. He sat in the backseat and told the driver to take him to the outskirts of Manhattan. He'd swing into Soho himself. He thought people might find it weird if Spider-Man got out of a limo in the middle of downtown. After a short drive, Peter was dropped off and the driver drove away without a word.

Peter put on his mask and webbed up into the city. Now that there was no big villain to fight, Peter felt more at ease, and he could actually enjoy swinging through the buildings. He headed down toward Soho, and he still wasn't very sure about what he wanted to say. But maybe just seeing MJ would steer him in the right direction. He hadn't seen her in what felt like forever, and he was almost looking forward to it.

People on the streets cheered when they saw him, clapping and calling his name. He waved to them, performing flips and other tricks. He liked that they acknowledged his feats from the previous night, but would they do the same for Jack?

It took him a while to reach the Broadway Cafe, but when he did, he found MJ waiting inside. He landed on the building the other side of the street and didn't know what to do from there. He stared at her through the window for a while, speechless. His brain had frozen over, refusing to concoct any words for him to speak. It's like his heart knew what he might say and wasn't going to let him risk ending things with MJ. She looked so pretty, just sitting in her chair with a single white mug, which probably had hot chocolate in it. She wore all dark clothes, which was normal for her, and her bangs hung over her eyes. She was reading a paper, most likely looking to see if more of her pictures got in the news. He hung his head as he leaned over the edge of the building, his mind alive with debating choices.

Peter had once heard the saying "if you love something, let it go". But in this particular situation, Peter didn't want to do that. He wanted to hold onto MJ, forever if he could. But both Mr.Stark's and Jack's words were echoing in his ears. She was his risk, and he didn't know what he wanted to do with her. Maybe after they had talked, she'd help him figure it out.

Then, a hard thud sounded from behind him, followed by a voice saying, "You should really just say something."

Peter quickly turned around. It was Jack, in all his werewolf glory, his fur a light cinnamon brown. He must've followed Peter shortly after he had left. His black backpack around his shoulders, Peter could see the glint of his new golden fang. Jack looked around Peter and down across the street, his blue gaze aimed at the Cafe.

"Michelle down there?" He asked, and Peter nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, waiting for me," Peter replied, looking over his shoulder to follow Jack's eyes.

"Still not sure, huh?" Jack asked, his tone sympathetic.

"Not at all."

"Why don't you ask her what she wants to do?" Jack suggested, tipping his head at him. "If it's ideas on how to do it you need, I can help in that area. I could do music, make a make a banner, get some confetti-."

"Never thought of that." Peter stopped listening after the lycan's first suggestion. "Having her decide. That could work. I can't believe I never thought of that, Wolf."

"You don't think of a lot of things."

Peter laughed dryly, "Hey now, just because we're partners now doesn't mean you can just come at me like that."

"Well, make up your mind and I won't," Jack retorted with a playful smile.

Suddenly, a shiver ran through him, giving him goosebumps. He instinctively looked down the street, and his stomach dropped. A kid, a young girl, was running out into the street, chasing a ball. Her mother was screaming out for her to come back, but gosh darn it, she was gonna get that ball. But it was rolling fast into the middle of the street.

Right into the path of a garbage truck.

Jack noticed it too, and his ears flicked forward in attention. His backpack dropped to the ground and he glanced at Peter.

"Dibs," he called, springing from roof and landing hard onto the street, taking off in a dead sprint toward the truck and the kid.

Peter rolled his eyes and followed after him, jumping off the roof and swinging over the lycan's head. He heard the truck's horn blare, and Jack put on a burst of speed. He leapt high over the kid's head and stood up straight. Peter saw him brace, holding his hands out to take on the full weight of the lumbering vehicle, which was struggling to screech to a halt.

The garbage truck slammed into him but stopped abruptly, its back wheels lifting into the air. Jack gripping its front lift, his entire body shaking as he halted the heavy vehicle. His feet dug into the cement, but he kept straight, refusing to be tipped over as he was forced to his knees. Peter noticed that its back end was still rising into the air. In an effort to stop it, Peter swung and kicked its tail end, dropping its rear wheels back to the road.

When it landed on the ground, Jack retained a kneeling position, letting go of the lift that was now indented with his handprints from his solid hold. Peter landed beside him, and noticed that the lycan was looking around him at the line of pedestrians that crowded the sidewalks, all gazing at him. Peter put a steadying hand on Jack's shoulder, which was very tense to the touch. The web-slinger figured he must be nervous about having so many eyes on him.

Clearly, no one knew how to react. People were getting out of their cars just to look. No one even moved to take a picture. It was like they were waiting for Jack to do something, waiting for him to reveal what he truly was. Was he still the bad guy that had gone on the rampage just a week ago? Was he the hero that had saved the city last night? Nobody seemed to have an answer, and nobody seemed to want to find out.

All except the little girl, who walked up from behind Jack. She approached him, and everyone's attention seemed to snap to her. They watched with bated breath, and Jack tipped his head, still remaining in his kneeling position so that the two were eye-level. He looked around and picked up her ball. Being careful not to puncture it with his claws, he held it out for her to take. The kid stared at it, then back at him, and did the most unexpected thing.

She hugged him.

She put her arms around his thick-furred neck and actually hugged him. Jack was startled by the action, and frankly, so was everyone else. He gave Peter a confused look, and the web-slinger nodded to him. This was Jack's moment, just the thing he needed to win people over. As Jack hugged her back, an audible "aww" went up from the crowd.

"Let's hear it for Werewolf!" MJ suddenly shouted from amidst the crowd, and people actually started to clap. They cheered him on, and he stared at MJ as she left the masses of people and walked up to him.

"See?" MJ said as she walked up to Jack's and Peter , "Not everyone hates you."

"So it would seem," Jack replied as he gave the girl back her ball. The kid smiled and ran back to her mother, who embraced her while staring at Jack in wonder. He stood up straight and rolled back his shoulders, taking in the applause.

Jack grinned down at MJ, saying, "I guess my life doesn't suck that much after all, eh, Michelle?"

"Please, call me MJ," she said, and they fist-bumped. Jack pulled his backpack over his shoulders and gave them an affectionate nod before leaping away. He gave aimed a hard, calculating look at Peter, narrowing his eyes. The Boy knew what he was saying, and nodded as he sprang away, climbing up the  nearest building, everyone's eyes following after him. While their attention was aimed at the lycan, Peter pulled MJ to him. She was confused at first, but she wrapped her arms around Peter's neck as he swept her up into the buildings.

Peter couldn't help but feel a certain joy for Jack. He had gotten his moment, the chance to prove that he was good, with a little help from a fearless young girl. Now everyone knew that Jack was a hero after all.

And as he held MJ against him, he decided something, then and there. Peter decided that he was going to be her hero, or at least be one worthy of her. He just hoped that she would think the same thing.


	44. Promises

Peter swung MJ up to a nonspecific building, landing them both on the roof. She tore away from him the second her feet touched the ground, and he took off his mask. She crossed her arms, glaring at him through her bangs.

"Give me some warning before you do that," MJ said, and Peter couldn't help but smile at her annoyance.

"Deal," Peter agreed with an affirmative nod.

"So, what do you want, Parker?" MJ asked, quirking her mouth. Peter looked down at his feet, nervousness seeping into his heart. He knew now what he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to start without giving her the wrong idea. Maybe getting the explanation out of the way will ease him into it.

"I've got to, uh, talk to you about something," Peter said simply, and MJ raised an eyebrow as he went on, "Look, Mr.Stark told me that being with anyone might put them in danger but-."

"Holy shit, stop right there," she interrupted him, holding up a hand. Her brown eyes were alight with a strange emotion, and Peter started to feel rather afraid as she started to rant heatedly.

"You're not gonna give me the whole I'm-a-superhero-so-I-have-to-stay-away-from-you-in-order-to-keep-you-safe bullshit, are you?" MJ asked him, and Peter grew red in the face.

"I mean, I _was_ gonna lead off with that," Peter mumbled, and MJ scoffed.

"Wow, okay. You know, I get that you're Spider-Man and all but you could have realized this sooner, before either of us got too... invested," she pointed out, looking down and shuffling her feet.

"MJ, you're not letting me finish," Peter said as he took a step closer, and he forced her to meet his gaze.

"Damn it Parker, what's there left to say?" She asked him, and Peter saw that her eyes were slightly watery, "I'm just a liability, right? A risk? That's what this comes down to, isn't it?"

 _Get a move on, Peter,_ he thought to himself.

"Yeah, but you're _my_ risk," Peter countered, and he dropped his mask, letting it fall to the ground.

Peter wasn't used to seeing her in such a vulnerable state. Hating the fact that he might be hurting her, he reached up to caress her cheek, and MJ subtly shied away from his touch. But after another small effort, she finally allowed him to cup her face gently. He wiped a tiny stray tear away that had fallen down her cheek with his thumb, using his other hand to push her bangs behind her ear.

"And I will protect you with everything I've got."

MJ looked up at him, but didn't reply. When she was silent, the words started to tumble out of him, "I promise you MJ, you will never be in harm's way as long there's breath in my body. I promise to-to never leave your side. I want to stay with you, and I hope you want to say too, because my heart really likes you."

She stared at him, expressionless, and he went on, "You read too much. You curse too much. You're not afraid to say what you think. You're everything I've ever wanted in a girlfriend."

The corner's of her mouth twitched slightly upward, "Those are your standards?"

"You're my standard. My-My everything." He was being clear, wasn't he?

"What are you trying to say?" Okay, so he wasn't. 

But if he was being perfectly honest, Peter was trying to say a lot of things, and everything was coming to him at once. All he had to do now was ask a simple question, which shouldn't be that hard. God, he had already talked so much, so why did he feel like his heart was going to explode at this particular moment?

"MJ, would you be my girlfriend?" He asked, letting instinct take over as he dropped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

"Like, we'd go on dates and stuff?" She asked back with a small smile, putting her arms around his shoulders and stroking the back of his head.

"I mean, that's the idea," Peter answered with a shrug, and he stammered, "We-we could do, um, other stuff too, I guess."

"You're such a dork, Peter," MJ grinned before pushing her lips against his in a sweet kiss, and Peter realized how much he liked it when MJ said his name.

"Well, I ship it," a new voice said, and they broke apart, but not letting go of each other. Jack, werewolf and all, was seated on a generator, leaned over with his elbow on his knee. He was looked at them with a kindly smile, his ears pricked forward and his blue eyes shining. His new gold fang gleamed, reflecting the afternoon light.

"See, what just happened here was that he was-," MJ began to explain, but Jack raised a hand to stop her.

"You don't have to do that," Jack said with a humorous shake of his head, "I heard everything."

"You should get lost," Peter told him, smiling as he pointed at his friend, gesturing for him to shoo.

"I was here first," Jack countered with a smirk, "Get a roof."

"Look at you, spouting one-liners," the web-slinger said, somewhat tightening his hold on MJ, "How much time did you spend with Mr.Stark?"

"Enough, and that reminds me. I kinda got kicked out of my apartment, and I need a place to stay. Temporarily, of course," the werewolf said as he got to his feet, "Stark said something about you having a bunk bed..."

"We'll work something out," Peter said. He'd have to go over it with Aunt May, but he actually liked the idea. Having Jack for a roommate sounded kind of fun.

"And hey, MJ?" Jack turned to Peter's new girlfriend, who looked over at him, "As long as you wear my fang around your neck, you're under my protection too. I take care of my friends."

She smiled up at him, and he looked away. He went to the ledge to give them some space, and Peter gave MJ a soft kiss on the lips, which she happily returned. He relished the feeling of holding her against him, feeling her lips against his. He felt like he was on Cloud Nine. Peter was holding his whole world in his arms, and he had gained a new crime-fighting friend. His city was safe from his villain, and he could finally rest easy.

But one thing he decided to do was refrain from telling MJ that he might be in love with her. She had only just agreed to be his girlfriend, so saying that might throw her off or scare her away. Maybe when he was certain she felt the same way, he would say something. But for now, he'd relish the moment of just holding her, his forehead against hers. She was his, and he was hers. It was as simple as that.

Then, there were sirens in the distance. Jack looked out over the building, his ears flattening. The web-slinger rolled his eyes, and MJ smirked at him. She stroked his hair, giving him a thoughtful look. But the sirens persisted, and he looked back at Jack, who was staring at him with a look of heartfelt pity. The lycan knew Peter didn't want to leave.

The boy swiveled back to MJ, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you want me to say? Something corny like "go get 'em, tiger" or some cheesy line like that?" She questioned with a smirk, tossing her bangs, "nah, you won't get that from me. Go do your job, dumbass."

Peter laughed at that, loving the fact that she was so different but so great. He kissed her one more time before pulling away, and he turned to Jack. The lycan was holding his mask out for him to take, and Peter took it, pulling it over his face. The two heroes fist-bumped and they ran to the ledge, standing up on it and looking across the city.

With one final glance back at the most beautiful girl in the entire universe, Peter leapt off the building. Jack followed, jumping across the street to the next roof. As Peter swung through the streets, Jack ran along the rooftops, keeping perfect time with the web-slinger's pace. He would easily clear the streets if he had to, and Peter whooped joyfully as Jack sailed by to the next building. His heart was as light as a feather, and he couldn't shake the smile that had nailed itself to his face.

Then again, he couldn't find a reason to never not smile ever again.


	45. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Just realized I completely skipped Ch.14 in my rush to put this story on here. My bad.)

***Harry Osborn’s pov***

Harry sat in his luxury chair aboard his father's private jet, wearing a high-end black suit and his dark hair combed to perfection. His father, Norman Osborn, was wearing his own expensive suit and sitting in his own chair across from Harry. He was reading the news from his phone, his mouth formed into a tight-knit frown as his eyes scanned an article. They both were silent, Harry thinking about how cold it would be when they landed. December in New York was always brutal.

They were on their way back to America after a few years overseas, and Harry couldn't wait to get back to New York. He didn't like Europe all that much, but Mr.Osborn had been on a mission, journeying to France, England, even Russia. He had been looking for willing participants to be part of his Special Projects Unit he was planning to assemble, but had come back with only one person, an near-psychotic Russian mobster with a trigger finger. There was a well-known engineer in New York, known on the streets as "The Tinkerer", that had access to some powerful weapons that Mr.Osborn was keen on acquiring. There were also some interesting criminals in the New York penitentiaries that he was looking into recruiting as well.

"What an inconvenience Dr.Connors was, going off the deep end like that," Mr.Osborn said, breaking the silence, "I still can't get over it."

Harry nodded along to his father's words, not really paying attention. Mr.Osborn had been complaining nonstop about the incident that happened back in October when Dr.Connors had tried to initiate his own diabolical plans. Harry's father blamed the scientist's sudden disloyalty for his explosive failure that had resulted in his imprisonment. But Mr.Osborn was relieved when the scientist didn't tell the authorities about anything Oscorp was up to, claiming that he had acted on his own.

"But to lose the werewolf as well," Mr.Osborn went on, shaking his head, "Tall about a disappointment. He was supposed to head my unit, you know."

"I know, Dad," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. The teen had never met any of his father's associates, but had somewhat wanted to meet the teenage werewolf they had hired after finding him wandering the Appalachians. They had brought him to New York and indoctrinated him into their league. Harry was disappointed that he never got to meet him, and he asked, "What was his name again, the werewolf?"

"I don't remember. Something Russoff," his father replied with a dismissive shrug, "When I said I wanted him under control, I was just going to use leverage or a simple bribe. Connors thought he could make him into another Winter Soldier by simply brainwashing him. What a fool. He didn't know that in order to tame the wolf, you must break the boy. Connors only wanted the wolf. That's where he lost him. Now I suppose I have to find a new team leader."

"I'm sure you'll find someone," Harry said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window. They were close to landing in JFK Airport, and the fifteen year-old boy longed for the moment when he would touch American soil again.

"What's worse is that the damn chair he used on the mutt had to be reclaimed by the police," Mr.Osborn rambled on, "If it had fallen into the hands of SHIELD or Stark, we'd be through. I spent a lot of money to get it back."

Harry nodded again, tired of hearing the same words over and over again. He had heard his father complain for days about how disappointed he was after the initial accident on top of Oscorp Tower, and was subject to the same speech Mr.Osborn made every time to emphasize it. You'd think he'd be over something that had happened months ago.

Harry felt the plane lower in altitude as it started its decline. He couldn't wait to be back in his family's city penthouse and be among familiar surroundings again. He would want to celebrate his return immediately, and started thinking about what he should do. He became so wrapped up in thought that he didn't realize that his father was still talking.

"HYDRA's on me about the Special Projects Unit, but with the mutt working with the Avengers, I'm not sure how much he knows or how much he told them. I told Connors to keep him in the dark, but who knows if that idiot listened. So for now, the project will have to be shelved indefinitely, until I can be sure of how much SHIELD knows," Mr.Osborn was saying as he laid his phone on the table and poured himself a glass of scotch, "The wolf will have to be eliminated sooner or later, for the purpose of avoiding loose ends. Maybe there’s someone out there who‘s willing to take him off our hands."

He sighed again as he downed his drink in one swig. He set his glass back on the table and poured himself another. He picked it back up and stared at it, turning it in his hand.

"The lycan that walked by moonlight now stands in the sun," Mr.Osborn quoted softly, and he raised his glass to Harry, teasing, "You wouldn't happen to have any superpowers, would you, son?"

Harry laughed dryly. He smoothed his hair down, not entirely caring for his father's joke. He was probably the only kid on Earth who hadn't wanted to be a superhero when he grew up. He had money, and that was all the power he needed. Besides, heroes caused nothing but trouble, especially in recent months.

But as the jet drew closer to New York, he began to think about what lay in store for him back home. Had much had changed? His father was adamant about him going back to school, and apparently Midtown High was the only one suitable for his status, since it churned out some of the best graduates in the state. He wondered if all his old friends still went there, and one in particular popped into Harry's mind.

_I wonder what Peter's been up to?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end. But worry not, for I'll be posting the sequel soon. If you enjoyed this first one, be sure to check it out! Oh, and leave a comment if you want about how you liked this story. I like reading your thoughts.


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